The Discovery, A Novel (12 page)

Father Aidan Flanagan, seated in the darkened confessional of St. Paul’s Church for the last half hour, had heard pleas for God’s mercy from the faithful, sought to give out a fair penance, granted absolution. It was Monday, now nearing the lunch hour. No one else had come in for a few minutes.

Aidan heard a noise. He looked through the mesh screening that allowed him to see out from the confessional. No one standing in line or kneeling nearby. He hoped he had done some good; he said a prayer of thanks and opened the door.

That’s when he saw one young man sitting near the back; he looked to be maybe twenty or twenty-five years old. He didn’t seem Catholic—you could tell such things. Even by the way he sat in the pew, like he was resting on a park bench. Was he waiting for someone? Aidan looked around. The church was empty.

The man looked right at him, then looked away.

Aidan walked closer. “Can I help you? Are you here to make a confession? We can do that.”

The man looked troubled; Aidan could see it in his eyes. “I need to talk to someone. But I’m not sure—”

“Then here, I’ll go back in, and you come in when you’re ready.” Aidan turned to head back to the confessional.

“I don’t know . . . maybe I should come back later.”

Aidan stopped, his hand on the knob. “That’s okay too. You could come back on Wednesday after the morning Mass. Or if you want to come in before then, you could call the rectory. Ask for me, Father Flanagan. I can meet you almost any time.”

The man stood up. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble. You’re here now.”

“Okay, son.” Aidan stepped into the confessional. He waited a few moments, heard footsteps. Then the door on the other side opened and closed. He slid the little wooden door over. A screen provided visual privacy but allowed them to hear each other just fine. No one said anything for a few more moments. “Is there something you’d like to confess?”

“I don’t know what to say,” the young man said. “I don’t . . . know how this works.”

“Usually people start off with a prayer. Something like ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,’ and then they say how long it’s been since their last confession.”

“I’m not actually Catholic.”

“Oh.”

“I’m Lutheran. Well, I was raised Lutheran, but my parents stopped taking me to church after we moved to Germany.”

“You lived in Germany?”

“Up until very recently, in fact.”

“I see. How recently?”

“That’s the thing, Father. That’s why I’m here. I . . . I needed someone to talk to. Someone in private. Now it’s true, right? Anything we say in here stays private? You can’t tell it to anyone else.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Good, that’s what I need.”

“Are you here, though, to make a confession?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure if I’m confessing sins. Well, I know lying is a sin, and I’ve been lying nonstop. For years, it seems.”

“I see.”

“I don’t think what I’m lying about is a sin. But if anyone knew what I’ve done, even who I am, I’d be arrested and probably executed.”

Aidan said a quiet prayer for wisdom. This sounded quite serious. “Why would you be arrested? People are usually only arrested for committing crimes.”

“What I’ve done is a crime, a war crime. But I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. Not really. If you knew the whole story, I think you’d agree. At least I hope you would. I don’t see that I had any choice. No one ever gave me a choice.” The young man was becoming agitated.

“Well, son, were you forced into doing . . . this thing? Is that why you don’t feel you had any choice?”

“Forced? In a way I was. But you’d have to hear the whole story for any of this to make sense.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

“I waited till everyone else left.”

“That was considerate of you. Tell me your story. I’d like to help you if I can.”

“Even if I’m a Lutheran? I haven’t been to church in years.”

“Those things aren’t important right now. What is important is that you’re here, that you’ve come to God for help.” He thought of a verse in Psalm 46: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. This young man needed God’s help, desperately, it seemed. God had been Aidan’s refuge so many times; he didn’t want to put any obstacles in this young man’s way.

“And you really can’t repeat anything I confess to you in here?”

“I really can’t, nor would I.”

He heard a loud sigh through the screen.

“I came to America two months ago, on a German U-boat. We came onshore in two rubber rafts, just a few miles north of here.”

Aidan was stunned. He’d expected the young man to confess to being an Army deserter or something of that sort. Nothing like this. “So you’re a . . . German spy?”

“No, I’m not. That’s why they sent me here, but that’s not why I came.”

“Why did you come?”

“To get back to America. I never wanted to leave. I was born here. My parents dragged me off to Germany in 1935. That’s where they were born. They came here after World War I but went back to be part of all the
wonderful
things Hitler was doing for the Fatherland.” He said this last part with obvious sarcasm. “I hated Germany. I hate everything the Nazis stand for.”

Aidan was relieved to hear that. “You said ‘we’ a moment ago. Are there others? Do they feel the same as you do about Hitler?”

“No, they are Nazis, in heart and soul. Well, two of them are. My partner is dead—but I didn’t kill him, Father. He drowned in the surf the night we came onshore.”

“Where is he now? Where are the other two?”

“Why do you need to know that?”

“I’m just trying to understand, trying to help you. Remember, nothing you say will be reported to the authorities.” He wondered at this moment if that was the right thing to say.

“The other two-man team is heading north, pursuing their mission. My partner, I buried him in the sand dunes not far from where we came ashore.”

This was hard to fathom, almost hard to believe. But the young man sounded completely sincere. “Is their mission . . . to hurt people, to kill Americans?”

“Yes. That’s the main mission. And to disrupt war production any way they can.”

My, my
. What should he do? This was awful. “Were you planning to do this but changed your mind?”

“No, I would never have gone through with it. I only pretended to be a Nazi so I could be picked for this assignment. My goal the whole time was to get back here, to start over. The thing is, I can do that now. I’m free. I can start over. But I don’t feel free inside.”

No, I don’t suppose you do
, Aidan thought. “Why is that?”

“Because, I’m lying all the time. To everyone. You’re the first person I’ve told any of this to. I can’t talk to anyone else. They’d have to turn me in. You know what they do to Nazi spies.”

Aidan remembered reading about this. They had executed six of them just a few months ago.

“But I’m not a spy. I didn’t do anything wrong. I haven’t hurt anyone, let alone killed anyone.”

“But you’re going to sit by quietly while your friends go off on their mission. Isn’t their mission to kill Americans?”

“They’re not my friends, Father. I don’t support them or anything they’re planning to do.”

“But you’re not doing anything to stop it, either.” He instantly regretted saying this. He was pushing too hard.

“You don’t understand. How could you? How could anyone?” The young man stood up. “I have to go.”

“Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I know. It’s just . . . I don’t know. I may come back and talk some more, if that’s okay.”

“Anytime, son. You can come back on Wednesday, if you like. Or just call the rectory and ask for me. I’ll meet here with you anytime.”

“Father Flanagan, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank you, Father. I’ve gotta go. You have a nice day.”

Aidan heard the door open and close. He waited a few moments. He needed some time, to gather his thoughts and to pray.

This had been the strangest confession he’d ever heard in his forty years as a priest.

Later that day, Ben drove his Ford coupe over the Broadway Bridge toward the downtown area. After leaving the church that morning, he’d spent the first part of the afternoon looking at houses to rent. He found the right one on Vermont Avenue, just around the block from his apartment. A nice little two-bedroom bungalow. What sealed the deal was the owner saying he normally lived down here through the winter but his business was booming, and he needed to head back to Baltimore right away.

That meant he wouldn’t be around to check up on the place, or on Ben. He’d given Ben the keys, so Ben went right to the hardware store and bought new locks for the doors. He bought an additional lock for each exterior door and a separate lock for the small bedroom door, where he’d put the suitcase filled with money and ration coupons.

It felt so good to get that suitcase out of his car.

Coming off the bridge, he turned right at the light. He saw the big Woolworth sign on the wall above the metal awning and started hunting for a place to park. On the seat beside him were the two stuffed animals Claire had left in his car. “I want to thank you two.” He smiled at the silly grins on their faces. They’d given him the excuse to come see her today without “the gang.”

He’d called Claire’s mother earlier. She told him Claire got off at 4:00 today. She seemed very happy to hear from him and actually talked a few minutes before he hung up.

Overall, he was feeling pretty good. His chat with Father Flanagan had initially upset him. But he soon realized it was just all the pent-up tension he’d felt, holding all these dark things inside. And the fear of getting caught if he opened up to anyone. Thirty minutes later, it dawned on him . . . it was okay.

Father Flanagan presented no danger. He hadn’t said anything that helped Ben, hadn’t given him any practical advice. Ben didn’t stay long enough to give him a chance. But still, talking had helped. It was as if a part of the weight he’d been carrying was lifted, just because another human being knew what he was going through.

A green Buick backed out a few parking places down from Woolworth’s front door, so Ben pulled in behind it. He looked at his watch. She should be coming out any minute. He glanced through the display windows, beyond the war bond and rationing posters, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the store.
Keep calm
, he told himself. Not the time to start pushing this too hard. Didn’t want to scare her off, come off looking like Hank. But it was so hard.

There she was, coming through the glass doors.

He got out of the car. She was so beautiful, but something seemed wrong. “Claire.” She turned in his direction, searching for the voice. “Over here.” He walked a few steps forward, by the fender.

“Oh. Ben,” she said, a big smile now on her face. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“Your mom told me when you got off. I was out on some errands this afternoon with a couple of your friends here in my front seat. They kept falling on the floor every time I hit the brakes.”

“What?” She walked toward him.

He walked back to the car and grabbed the stuffed tiger and bear, held them up. “You left them in the car Saturday.”

“Aww,” she said, hurrying over.

He handed them to her and she hugged them. “Thanks, Ben. I really need them right now.”

“Are you okay? You seem . . . upset.”

“Is it obvious?”

“I can see it in your eyes.” She leaned against the fender. “Careful,” he said, “needs washing. Don’t want your skirt to get dirty.”

“That’s the least of my worries right now.”

“Did something happen in the store?”

“No. I just got some discouraging news at lunch, from Barb.”

“Is Joe okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s just . . . something’s happened. Barb found out about it. She met me at lunch to fill me in.”

He didn’t know what to say. They stood there a few moments. She looked up at him, something new in her eyes. A warm feeling rushed over him.

“Thanks so much for bringing these.” She hugged the stuffed animals again. “I just realized, I never thanked you for winning them for me on Saturday. I guess I was kind of shocked, the way you shot that pistol.”

“Just something I learned how to do last year.” He hoped she didn’t ask anything else about it.

“It’s a shame the Army turned you down. Seems like they could use a man who can handle a gun like that.”

What should he say?

“But I’m glad they did . . . turn you down, I mean.”

“You are?”

She looked in his eyes that same way again. “Yes, I am.”

It seemed to Ben time slowed in that moment. As if unspoken words passed between them. He wanted to risk telling her, right then, how deeply he loved her, how much she meant to him. What he said was, “Care to talk about what’s bothering you? I don’t know if I can help, but sometimes just talking about problems takes the edge off. For me, anyway.”
Listen to you, as if you’re some kind of expert
.

“Maybe I would,” she said. “Dinner’s not until 5:30.”

He looked across the street. “We could take a walk in the riverfront park over there, then I could drive you home.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Then let’s do it. Here, let’s put your two friends back in the front seat.” She handed them over and Ben put them in the car. “Do you need to call your mom first, to let her know you’re not coming right home?”

“No, she’s used to me doing things after work. Sometimes I have shopping or I do something with Barb. As long as I’m home for dinner, she won’t be worried.”

“Great, then let’s go.”

They walked down to the intersection, waited for the traffic light to change, then crossed the street together. Ben had to fight off the impulse to reach for her hand.

But he had the strange impression that if he did try, she wouldn’t pull away.

Daytona’s Waterfront Park was a beautiful place. Ben had never seen anything like it. October was the last month of pleasant weather in Germany. It could still be warm, occasionally even sunny. In Pennsylvania, where he’d grown up, it would be pretty cold right now. But here, it was not only warm and sunny but the park was filled with palm trees. There were big pink flowering bushes called oleanders. Flowers lined the walkways, in bloom as if in spring.

Walking beside him was the most beautiful young woman he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how it happened or what had brought it about, but somehow Jim Burton no longer seemed to be standing in his way. “Would you like to walk or sit on a bench?” he said.

“Let’s walk for a little while, maybe that walkway over there, the one along the river.”

Ben took the fork in the sidewalk. “So what happened? What did Barb tell you?”

Claire sighed. “It’s about Jim.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, we are no longer a couple.”

It was all Ben could do to contain his joy. But he saw how this saddened her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too, I guess. I’m more upset by how it happened.”

“Yeah, I was about to ask why you found this out talking to Barb.”

“I can’t believe Jim would do this. He’s such a coward.”

“What did he do?”

She explained how Barb found out he’d resumed his relationship with his old girlfriend, someone named Sally. He’d started writing her again, frequently. “Here I’ve been writing him several times a week, making excuses for why he hardly ever wrote me back. And here he is, writing Sally all these letters he was supposed to be writing me. He doesn’t even have the courage to send me one letter explaining how he felt.”

“That’s pretty lousy,” Ben said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

They stopped near the middle section of the park. Behind them stood the American Legion Memorial, its white pillars gleaming in the sun. Ben turned back toward the water. “Hey, look.” He pointed to a spot halfway across the river. “Did you see them? Fins came up out of the water. Two of them, one bigger than the other.”

Claire turned to see, put her hand across her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. “I don’t see them.”

“You think they’re sharks?” Ben said, still staring at the spot.

“Probably dolphins. Were they swimming in a straight line or rolling?”

“More like rolling. There they are again, a little farther to the right. See them?”

She looked to where he pointed. “No, I missed them again.”

“Here.” He stood behind her, bent over so that his chin rested on her right shoulder. “Give me your hand.” They were standing as close as they had on Saturday night slow dancing. She didn’t pull away. If anything she leaned in closer. With her hand in his, he lifted her arm out straight, right to where he expected the dolphins to surface again. “Keep looking, right . . . about . . . there,” he said softly.

The dolphin fins surfaced again.

“I see them!” she shouted. “Right there. Oh, Ben, aren’t they wonderful? I love dolphins.” They went underwater again but came right back up. “See that smaller one, I’ll bet it’s a mother and a baby, swimming together.”

“I’ll bet you’re right,” he said. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand but remained standing behind her. He noticed she didn’t move away. They stood there a few moments, until it seemed the dolphins had left the area for good. “Do you want to keep walking?”

“No, let’s sit over there.” About fifty yards ahead was a bench under a cluster of palm trees, facing the river. “Maybe they’ll come back.”

They walked there in silence but closer together. Several times her hand brushed against his. It was all he could do not to take it. More than that, he imagined taking her in his arms, then raising her face to his lips. Then he would kiss her. Jim Burton was no longer an obstacle. Ben had felt guilty about some of the thoughts he’d been having lately, of Jim not making it home from the war, freeing Ben to have Claire all to himself. It was a terrible thing to think, and he knew it. But he couldn’t imagine anything short of death that would cause someone to relinquish such a prize as Claire.

She seemed more angry than heartbroken, and that seemed like a good thing to him. It confirmed what he suspected all along: she didn’t love Jim Burton.

They sat down on the bench, right next to each other.

“Do you mind if I ask what’s bothering you the most about all this?”

Claire looked down a moment, then out to the water. “I just don’t understand why he would treat me this way. He was the one that asked me to wait for him. It wasn’t my idea. My parents were actually kind of upset with me for saying yes.”

“They didn’t like Jim?”

“I don’t think that was it. They didn’t really know him.”

“Weren’t you dating for a year?”

“We were, but he never seemed to want to get to know them. Now I think I know why. He wasn’t over Sally, and he wasn’t that serious about me.” She looked at him. “Believe it or not, you spent more time with them at dinner Saturday than he did the entire year.”

“Really.”

She nodded.

“Did they . . . say anything about me?”

She smiled and poked him playfully in the ribs. “They liked you.”

“They said that?”

“Even my dad. He said, ‘Ben seems like a nice young man, very easy to talk to.’ You know what that means?”

“No.” But Ben liked the sound of it.

“It was my dad’s way of saying he wouldn’t mind if I brought you around again.”

“Really.”

“Yep. But he’d never say something like that. Because even though he didn’t agree with it, he knew I’d promised Jim I’d wait for him. But he’s probably going to be more upset with Jim than I am, when he hears what he’s done.”

“So you’re more upset with Jim for how he treated you, than . . .”

“You mean, did he break my heart? No, I’m not heartbroken. I know now, I didn’t really love Jim. But still, it’s so wrong, the way he treated me. It’s deceitful and cowardly.”

“I agree.” What was Ben saying? That’s exactly what he was doing with Claire, right here, right now. And all along. Wasn’t he being deceitful and cowardly?

“And from what Barb told me, Jim also lied to Sally.”

“How so?” Ben felt himself tensing up.

“Barb said Sally had no idea that I didn’t know the two of them were back together. Jim must have said things in his letters to make her think that, right? He must have told her he’d written me to break it off. But I haven’t heard from him in over two weeks. He’s written her a bunch of letters in that time, so he certainly could have found the time to write me. I’m just glad I found this out about him now.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t have a healthy relationship with someone who lies.”

Ben’s heart sank; the words were like a punch in the stomach.

She stood up and reached for his hand. “So, Ben Coleman, are you going to ask me out or not?”

“What?”

“Everyone I trust—my mom and dad, Barb—say you’re crazy about me. They said they can’t believe I didn’t know. Well . . . are you?”

Ben stood up. “Claire, I’m guilty.” He took her hand, instantly felt heat shoot up his arm. He squeezed it tight then took her other hand. “I’ve been in love with you, I think, since the first day we met.”

She looked right into his eyes and said, “I don’t know if I love you yet, Ben. But I know I already care more for you than I ever cared for Jim.”

“You do?”

She nodded.

His sick feelings all disappeared. He had no idea how he’d ever overcome the last huge obstacle between them—telling her the truth about his past—but right now he didn’t care. He loved her deeply, completely.

She rested her head on his chest. He hugged her tightly. Ben knew he’d remember this moment—when Claire’s heart first turned toward him—for the rest of his life. Something deep inside him shifted right then. He could feel it; something more than the joy and release of romantic desire. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from all harm, no matter what it cost him. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek, then reached up and turned her head toward him, caressing her cheek, finding her lips, promising everything—a lifetime—in his kiss.

She turned and faced the river, still leaning against him. He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. He knew nothing in his past, nothing in his future, would ever equal the value of this precious woman he held in his arms. She was so warm but also so fragile. He knew what it meant for Claire to give herself to him now: she was placing herself in his trust. He felt the weight of that trust like a tangible thing. He could not, would not break it. Somehow, he’d find a way to become worthy of her trust; then once he had earned it, he’d do whatever he must to keep it intact.

He was holding the love of his life.

Suddenly, several seagulls nearby began cackling loudly, startling them. Claire pulled away and they both laughed.

The seagulls stood between the sidewalk and the river, looking right at them. “It looks like they approve,” Claire said.

“Actually, I think they want food.”

“Speaking of food,” she said, “would you like to come over for dinner again tonight?”

They began walking back toward the car, holding hands. “Oh yes, I definitely would.”