A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [31]
To make matters very lonely, Carlos Martinez went off to the University of Texas in Austin, where he loaded himself up with courses.
The two boys wrote quite often at first, but as Carlos went into a new atmosphere, mail time lengthened. Carlos simply studied and let women chase him.
Their first meeting back at the ranch was tinged with sorrow, for they knew that what they had once had was faded and would not return. Carlos even looked different, what with his mustache and all.
Quinn had his little pal, Rita, who seemed very content in being nearby. Almost into her teens, her body was beginning to bloom. Still a kid, unfortunately, but Rita was going to be extremely beautiful.
Quinn found himself pondering the issues of his Catholicism. School out, Carlos gone, and even Rita away with her father in Mexico. He had time to find a boulder by a stream, throw in a line, and think. The spark of his meditation was the devoutness of his parents, which often led to dead-end attempts at explanations.
Carried to somewhat of an extreme, the ranch and formal garden carried a dozen shrines, and every bed in the house was guarded by a cross.
Quinn knew better than argue the subject with his parents.
The arrival of Father Sean came on a good wind. He was a wise observer of the family progress. A certain quality of conversation was now possible on a hundred subjects Dan and Siobhan knew nothing about.
On the porch of Father Sean’s apartment, Quinn became an evening guest.
“Lonesome, Quinn?” the priest asked.
“In a manner of speaking. There’s plenty to do, and I’ve a bushel of great friends. What I seem to be missing is someone to talk to. Carlos is staying in Austin this summer. He’s maniacal to complete his courses. I had wonderful hours with Reynaldo Maldonado, but he and Rita are in Mexico till school starts.”
“Your dad tells me you’re a natural for a football scholarship to one of the smaller colleges.”
“My dad looks at me and sees Gayle Sayers. He’s never really asked, but I don’t like football. Not that I mind mixing it up. I’m pretty good at ice hockey. Football doesn’t excite me like, pardon the expression, baseball. But Dad seems obsessed with getting me a football scholarship.”
It was not the football scholarship, it was control of his son. Father Sean knew what he had suspected, that Dan was setting the boy up as an alter ego. It wasn’t working. Every time they grated on one another, Dan feared it was Quinn’s desire to bolt, to search for his birth parents. His fear became unreasonable.
It worried Quinn as well. “Uncle Sean, I can’t control certain insatiable desires. I can’t fathom why God has taunted me with the secret of my birth. So I look deeper into my Catholicism to find comfort from my frustration. Please know that my loyalty is to Dan and Siobhan, but I have lost some trust in the Church. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I’ve pondered on the same thing,” Sean said. “The system must be doing something right; it’s the oldest and strongest non-military organization ever known to man.”
“How can I find solace in so many alcoholic priests? Or a virgin birth? I almost died when I found out that Saladin, the Moslem, was the true hero of the Crusades, and the Crusaders were mindless butchers. And the Inquisition and the Holocaust. All of these were done by primarily Catholic nations.”
Father Sean held his hand up. “There are many paths to God; we are only one of them. We must put on a show for the wealthy who identify with the pomp and gold and splendor. The Church’s power is their power.
“The same show is performed for the hopeless. Human fodder. They use Catholicism for their own purpose, for survival. They sacrifice chickens on the cathedral steps in some cultures. Each group’s needs twist Catholicism around to fill those needs.
“Evil men attend church,” he went on. “Evil men pray in synagogues, and evil men perform mutilations on women to the glory of Allah. Evil men pay large sums for us to renew the leases on their consciences.