On a blustery December morning Tommy Rowley parks his old Volvo behind the Pius XII Auditorium, carefully places his college acceptance letter on the passenger seat, pulls up his collar against the wind, and walks into the woods. Minutes later he ends his life, hoping to bury a secret forever. Almost eight years later, a glowing window is discovered during a power outage on the campus of a Boston hospital. After some claim to see an image of the Virgin Mary in the window, Saint Katherine's Hospital quickly becomes a magnet for the devout, the curious, and the profit-minded-just as the Catholic Church's sexual abuse scandal is spinning out of control. Meanwhile, stories of blackmail and conspiracy surface, secrets are revealed, and events escalate to a violent and unanticipated climax. As one of the characters says, "There's no end to the Tommy Rowley tragedy" In this fast-paced and suspenseful novel the plans and motives of its colorful characters emerge and finally erupt into open conflict. At once satiric and spiritual, comic and deeply serious, Murphy's fiction plunges readers into a vibrant community of strong traditions and beliefs whose shared culture cannot conceal its fierce rivalries, and the constant threat of its ideals from secular and clerical opportunists. The story will captivate anyone who has pondered the actions of people mesmerized by unexplained phenomena. The questions it raises-of the proper response to evil acts, of the durability of loyalty, of competing visions of justice-will stay with readers long after the story ends.

ASSUMPTION CITY

By TERRENCE MURPHY

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Terrence Murphy
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-5659-7

Chapter One

DECEMBER 1994

It was weird to see the Mount of Olives parking lots so empty. Even on those rare days when he got there early, the only spaces left were in the second lot, behind Pius XII Auditorium. Tommy considered parking near the half-dozen cars in the first lot but settled on putting the old Volvo behind a couple of yellow school buses in back of the building.

He felt much better. Now that he had a plan, the panicky feeling was gone, and he was thinking clearly.

The wind kicked up some leaves that the grounds crew had missed. A dusting of snow overnight coated the ground, but coming as it did a couple of days after Christmas, it didn't much matter. He remembered one of those TV weather guys saying that Boston gets a white Christmas only once in seven years. Tough on the little kids who needed to believe in Santa and his sleigh. They could burn through a whole childhood without the reassurance of snow on the roof.

His father was sure to be at the hospital by now, screwing around with his petri dishes and incubators. Dr. Tom Rowley loved his little lab on weekends, when folks didn't mess with him. And last night, Tommy heard Ma talking to one of her friends on the phone about the after-Christmas sales. They'd be cruising the Charles River Mall by now.

The patch of woods between the parking lot and the ball fields was bare and lifeless except for a few scattered evergreens. Their history teacher called this area a "copse," and the kids all laughed.

"Did he say corpse?" one of the kids stage-whispered, and everybody laughed again.

He pulled the early admission letter from his parka and smoothed it carefully before unfolding it and studying it for the hundredth time. He loved the way the college seal was embossed on the top of the page. He closed his eyes and ran his finger over it like a blind man reading a message in Braille.

We are pleased to offer you ...

He folded the letter, slipped it snugly into its envelope, and placed it on the passenger seat, where it wouldn't get soiled.

He peered into the rearview mirror and realized that he hadn't really looked at himself for a long time. With his contacts in, he looked totally un-nerdy. Studying his deep-set eyes and strong chin, he decided he was good looking. He flashed a winning smile, as if on camera.

The all-American boy.

It was time to step out into the cold.

Clouds skittered across the sky, making the sun flicker and making it feel colder than it was. Father Guido would call this a "high-pressure day." On their walks, back when they talked about so many things, they decided that they both preferred low-pressure days when the air was calm.

Father Guido ... God knows this isn't his fault, Tommy thought.

He pulled up his collar against the wind and walked into the woods. On cue, the memory loop in his brain kicked in, just as it did at least once every waking hour.

It was the day before Thanksgiving break, and the whole school was in holiday spirits. Two jocks from the football team were walking past him outside the cafeteria, when one of them (he wasn't sure which) stuck his foot out and tripped him. By the time he retrieved his books and picked himself off the floor, they'd disappeared.

Meanwhile, the hallway was wall-to-wall with kids and a scattering of teachers, but no one seemed to notice.

He had to act quickly, before he changed his mind.

He eased the old man's .45 from his parka, rubbed it with his hands to get it warm, and leaned his forehead against the muzzle.

Then he closed his eyes and listened to the wind in the trees and the cars whizzing along Charles River Drive below the ball fields for a few seconds before tightening his finger on the trigger.

Chapter Two

AUGUST 2002

MONDAY

1.

Dr. Edward Cronin was already half shaved when he heard his cell phone bleeping from the bedroom. As the president of Saint Katherine's Hospital (which just about everyone called Saint Kay's), his cell was on 24/7.

Kitty jumped out of bed and answered the phone.

Cronin feared it might be another call from Archbishop Quilty.

The archbishop of Boston loved to call early in the morning or late at night to talk about what was on his mind, never asking whether it was a bad time to call or whatever. Apparently, Cronin wasn't alone. The archbishop's secretary, Father Skerry, once confided that the Boss needed no more than four hours' sleep and was driving the chancery staff nuts.

Then he remembered that the archbishop was on retreat.

Kitty put her hand over the receiver. "Eddie, Pat Kaminski is calling from the hospital. He says it's an emergency."

"Sorry to trouble you so early, Dr. Cronin, but I need to tell you about what's happened here overnight. Actually, at 5:01 this morning."

"What is it, Pat?"

"The power went down all over the hospital."

"Did the emergency generators kick in?"

"Perfectly. As you know, the backup system was updated in '99, at the time of the millennium computer crisis."

How could he forget the two-hundred grand he threw away for the threatened computer shutdown that never happened? All he ended up doing was lining the pockets of those nerdy little computer wizards!

"Auxiliary power kicked right in for the emergency department, in-patient areas, and the operating room."

"Are we still on backup?"

"No, sir. Boston Edison got power back at 5:43. We were down for forty-two minutes and thirty-four seconds. Edison says that a transformer at the foot of the hill failed, and they were able to reroute the grid around the problem. They anticipate no further difficulties."

"Is everything back to normal?"

"Yes, sir, technically."

"Technically? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"No more problems with the power, sir. All the computers have surge protectors, so no data was lost. The clocks all over the hospital stopped, of course, and need to be moved ahead manually the forty-two minutes and thirty-four seconds, but that's a minor headache."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well, sir, something really out of the ordinary is happening."

"A power outage is out of the ordinary enough. What else?"

"One of my men reported some unusual lighting on one of the windows at the medical office building."

"I'm not in the mood for riddles, Pat."

"No, sir."

"Well then, what do you mean by `unusual lighting'?"

"I guess you could say, a lighted image, one that looks like the Virgin Mary."

"The Virgin Mary? Like in Jesus, Mary, and Joseph?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you looked at this `image' yourself?"

"I'm standing underneath the window now. I thought you'd want to know about it right away."

"So what is this? Somebody's idea of a joke?"

"I really don't know, sir. By the time I drove in from home, the power was back on. I was on the phone in my office with the Edison guys when Raymond, our night supervisor, burst into the office to tell me about the window. I was sure this was going to be some kind of a crock, and I figured someone would have to point the window out to me. But when I walked around the corner, the window was glowing. I'm not much for religion, you know, but the window really shook me up. Looks like the outline of the Virgin Mary just like I remember in my old missal when I was a kid. Dr. Cronin, I was over at the medical office building yesterday afternoon, and the windows looked normal then. Something must have happened...