Do You Want to Know a Secret? (15 page)

The black limousine
carrying Louise Kendall, her son William and Range Bullock pulled up into the brick yard in front of Newark’s Cathedral of the Sacred Heart. Louise’s first awareness was of the crowds gathered outside. Police barricades had been erected to cordon off the inquisitive onlookers. Television news crews pointed their cameras in the direction of the limousine carrying Bill Kendall’s ex-wife and son.

The limousine door opened and the three alighted. Louise adjusted her sunglasses, grateful for the protection against the bright sun and the penetrating stares of the curious spectators. She looked up toward the soaring granite towers. Their carved, gargoyled spires loomed imposingly. Turning to Range, she declared, “It’s breathtaking! It’s amazing something like this exists in Newark.”

It took fifty-six years to build the cathedral. Upon its completion, a group of renowned architects had put their heads together and declared the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart to be the most perfect expression of the French Gothic in the western hemisphere. The cathedral itself covered an area of forty thousand square feet, an area almost equal to that of London’s famed Westminster Abbey. Its towers were higher than Notre Dame in Paris. The Cathedral of the Sacred Heart was a world-class cathedral, but until Pope John Paul II’s visit, the world hadn’t known about it. So taken with its splendor, the pontiff granted it the special title “cathedral basilica,” to acknowledge its rank among Christendom’s greatest churches.

At the massive bronze front doors, a flock of clergymen in white vestments waited to welcome the physical remains of Bill Kendall and commend his spirit to God. The turnout of the religious was impressive. Louise recognized Thomas Gleason, the cardinal archbishop of New York, resplendent in his red cassock, white lace rochet and red mozzetta. On his head was a simple red skullcap.

Next to the cardinal stood another man, smaller in stature, wearing a white chasuble trimmed in black and gold, and a high white arch of the miter, the official headdress of a bishop in the Roman Catholic Church. Obviously in charge, the archbishop of Newark stepped forward and extended his hand to Louise. “Mrs. Kendall, I am Theodore Sweeney.” He smiled sympathetically and murmured a few words about what a wonderful man Bill had been. Archbishop Sweeney turned toward William, reached out and put his right hand on the young man’s shoulder.

Louise looked at their son. William was running his fingers under the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable in his tie. Poor kid. Maybe she had made a mistake in having him come today.
She
was having a difficult time being here. How the hell would William process the elaborate ritual?

Classified as functioning mentally only as a nine- or ten-year-old, William sometimes amazed his parents with a special insight or observation. Louise was convinced that William’s brain itself was strong. It was his connective ability that was weak. People with Fragile X lacked a protein essential for making connections. Researchers were trying to figure out the protein. She prayed that someday there would be a manufactured protein for her son, like insulin for a diabetic. Gene therapy was also very promising. For now, though, the Ritalin he had been taking helped him focus a bit better.

So far, his eyes didn’t have that panicked, overwhelmed look. Louise summoned up her trusty inner voice which told her again that she couldn’t control what her son would do, she could only deal with whatever came.

Standing behind the bishops, among a group of other priests dressed in simple white chasubles and matching tapestry stoles, Louise saw Father Alec Fisco, the earnest, young associate pastor of the cathedral. Father Alec had come to see her over the weekend. Louise had gone along with most of what he had suggested about the funeral plans. She just didn’t care much about the details. She was too stunned.

She looked around and thought of the day she married Bill. They had been so young, the future so promising. They were going to have it all. And they did, for a while.

Louise watched as the archbishop sprinkled holy water over the dove-gray casket. “I bless the body of William with the holy water that reminds us of his baptism.” The pallbearers then placed a white pall, with black and gold trim, over the casket.

The procession began down the marbled main aisle of the cool, majestic place. First, the incense-swinging thurifer leading the way for the cross flanked by two white candles carried by college seminarians dressed in their white albs. Next, a deacon carried the Gospel book, then Father Alec, who would give the homily, followed by a large gaggle of concelebrating priests. The bishops from Brooklyn, Paterson, Metuchen, and Camden walked in pairs, followed by Archbishop Sweeney. Behind him were his crozier and miter bearers. Cardinal Gleason and the cardinal archbishop of Philadelphia, both in their red choir dress, came next. This was Sweeney’s cathedral, and he would be the celebrant of the funeral Mass.

Bill’s draped casket, escorted by the six honorary pallbearers, five men and one woman who had been part of Bill Kendall’s life. Louise had at first been touched when Yelena called and asked if she could be a pallbearer. Louise didn’t really like herself thinking that Yelena probably got a charge out of being the only woman. Well, it was fine with Louise. Yelena certainly had the size to pull it off. Besides, Bill had liked her.

Louise, William and Range walked together slowly down the long, white and green aisle, bringing up the rear. Louise spotted faces from
KEY News
. There was Eliza Blake. She made a mental note that she wanted to get hold of Eliza and ask if she’d consider pinch-hitting for Bill at the New Visions for Living fund-raiser. Louise almost smiled, amused that her brain was tending to details even at Bill’s funeral. Bill had always kidded her about being so organized.

The three took their places in the carved white-oak front pew. Louise was aware of thousands of eyes upon her. She stood erect, fixing her eyes on the altar ahead. The clergy had taken their carefully orchestrated positions on the elevated sanctuary. The funeral ceremony started.

Archbishop Sweeney began the opening prayer for one who died by suicide. “Almighty God and Father of all, you strengthen us by the mystery of the cross and with the sacrament of your Son’s resurrection. Have mercy on our brother, William. Forgive all his sins and grant him peace. May we who mourn this sudden death be comforted and consoled by your power and protection. We ask this through Christ our Lord.”

Fifteen hundred voices answered, “Amen.”

What would Bill, the former altar boy from a small town in Nebraska, have thought if he could see what was happening now? Louise stared at the marble angel with the open hands affixed to the altar rail in front of her, and wondered about the man who had come so far only to end like this.

Why, Bill? Why?

Chapter 26

What a sendoff
this was! He wondered how many would turn out for his own funeral.

Judge Dennis Quinn watched Bill Kendall’s casket glide down the main aisle of the cathedral. He stood among the weepy troop from New Visions for Living. Dennis, before everything had happened, had acted as treasurer of the organization, which raised money to buy group homes for the mentally retarded. He’d even played a clown at parties for the residents. Kendall, until his death, had served on the board of directors. Generous with his money, Kendall was also generous with his time. Those associated with New Visions for Living were not only proud to be connected to Bill Kendall the famous anchor, they valued knowing Bill Kendall the man.

Dennis watched Louise Kendall and her son take their seats in the front pew.

Bill worried so about that kid. Dennis remembered going out with Bill to approve the first group home that New Visions bought. After they had thoroughly inspected the five-bedroom colonial with the fenced-in yard, Bill had remarked, “Maybe my William will live here someday.” Back then, Dennis’s heart had gone out to the guy. All that dough, and he still couldn’t make everything all right for his kid.

That was then.

But Bill had discovered that Dennis had been siphoning off funds from the charity and threatened to turn the judge in if he didn’t repay the money.

Kendall really was a sucker, though, Quinn thought, suppressing a smirk. When the judge said the money was gone and that disclosure of the embezzlement would kill his poor twice-widowed mother—to have her only son felled by scandal—the sap fell for it.

But Kendall had come up with that miserable payback plan. It had been agony.

As everyone listened to the first reading from Scripture, Dennis reached into his pocket, took his handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of his dry eye. It was important that none of the others sitting all dewy-eyed and sniffling alongside him this morning suspect his true feelings. They, who were such Bill Kendall worshipers, must think that he, too, was mourning the loss of Bill.

But he wasn’t.

Chapter 27

During the second
Scripture reading, Yelena Gregory sat in the front row on the left-hand side of the cathedral with the other pallbearers. It had been a long walk escorting Bill’s casket down the aisle.

She cast a glance to her left. The
KEY News
team sat in the pew beside her. Pete Carlson, Eliza Blake, Mack McBride, Harry Granger. She took some solace from sitting next to them, united in paying their respects to Bill.

Pete looked ill at ease. That was understandable. He probably felt awkward as the guy taking Bill Kendall’s spot. Relax, Pete. No one can really take Bill’s place, so don’t even bother to try. You’ll be better off if you are your own person.

Of course, Yelena had to admit to herself, the pressure was really on him. Gone were the days when management waited patiently for on-air talent to catch on with the audience. The pressure would come from corporate and Yelena wouldn’t be able to protect Pete. If he didn’t deliver the ratings in short order, someone else would be brought in. Yelena knew that the someone would be Eliza Blake. Viewer calls and letters were running high in support of her. There had been a few negative opinions expressed about the
Mole
article, but not enough so far to raise any real worries.