“Monsignor, you’d better do more than just talk.”
“Then what?” Delvecchio spread his hands in query.
“We should sit down and work out a statement for the media. It would have to be very carefully worded. For instance, it would say that you just discovered your sister’s involvement. That you can in no way condone this. But she remains your sister. You love her, but repudiate what she’s doing. You will pray for her and you enlist the prayers of all in the pro-life movement.
“We might also get a statement from Lucy. The point is, bring this out in the open-before the news media gets hold of it-and tie up all the loose ends. That way, it’ll be news for only a short while. But if the media breaks this story, it’ll be their story. They’ll push it for days. They’ll be hounding you, Lucy, the medical establishment-and most of all your archbishop.” Goldbaum looked at the monsignor expectantly.
“As I say, I will talk to Lucy. I prefer to think we can keep this from going public. But I thank you for telling me.” He thought for a moment, then said, almost as if to himself, “Maybe I can save Lucy from herself.”
Goldbaum paid the bill, leaving a generous tip. “Monsignor, think about what I said … or you’re going to be up to your ears in what we in the business call public damage control.”
26
Though brother and sister, Vincent and Lucy Delvecchio seldom got together. Each was proud of what the other had accomplished. Each wished a closer bond with their brother Tony. All three of them were busy. And the glue that once held them together-their mother-had dissolved with her death.
With infrequency marking their relationship, when Vince phoned, Lucy was pretty sure what it was about: He had to have learned of her pro-choice activity. If that was indeed the case, this evening would not be pleasant.
Actually, Lucy did not consider herself pro or con anything. She simply followed where the trouble traveled. The recent vasectomy, for example. She handled few such procedures. Partly because few men opted for that resolution, partly because most men preferred a male physician for that “man’s” operation.
She would not have counseled the procedure for this healthy man. But when she learned to what extremes he and his wife had gone to plan their family, and their failure with every method but abstinence, and his determination to have the operation, she went ahead with it.
Lucy was not part of any movement for or against abortion. She was just as apt to counsel carrying to full term with possible adoption thereafter as she was to counsel abortion.
However, she knew the odds of convincing her brother of the validity of her position fell between no way and never.
When the doorbell rang, her back stiffened. The inevitable moment she had most dreaded was here.
They hugged. She took his hat and coat. Dinner was ready. He’d brought a bottle of domestic wine.
It did not occur to Vincent that this was only the second woman with whom he had dined alone. So deep in his subconscious had he buried Jan Olivier that it was as if she had never entered his life. All that stood in that space was an imaginary monument to his victory over concupiscence.
The atmosphere through dinner affected to be convivial, friendly, and old-shoe-much more so than was warranted. Somehow, they made it to the dessert course.
Lucy, unable to stand the tension any longer, broke the ice. “Well, big brother, this has been nice, but there’s no evident reason we should enjoy dining together. No birthday, no holiday-come to think of it, we don’t get together even on those occasions. You called me. So, what’s on your mind?”
Vincent was eager to be the first to dive in; once again, he was on the side of the angels. The problem would be Lucy’s should she not respond properly to his admonition.
“I had lunch yesterday with a gentleman who has a business colleague who recently saw you professionally.”
“Oh?”
“This colleague, your patient, has-or rather, had-a problem with family planning. You solved the problem by giving him a vasectomy!”
“He wanted it,” she said calmly.
“If one of your patients wanted something that was foolish, would you give it to him?”
“It’s not the same.”
“You’re right there: A vasectomy is a sin-a serious sin.”
Lucy sighed deeply. “Vince, either one of us could write the rest of this script. I know what family planning procedures you object to. I know what my patients need. Sometimes there’s a conflict between your morality and my medicine. We know all this. Why go through the agony of arguing about it?”
“You went to a parochial school. You came from a good Catholic home. How dare you question these matters! This is not my morality we’re talking about; it’s the moral stance of our Catholic Church!”
“I was a kid. Sure I learned-and believed-what the nuns and priests taught us. I’m an adult now. I can think for myself. And I can read about a Cardinal who thinks it’s wrong for a man to wear a condom to prevent communicable diseases-even if it’s a gay man. As if a condom has some sort of morality in and of itself!”
This was going nowhere, just as Lucy had anticipated. Vincent decided to drop the bomb.
“Lucy, we can get back to these ‘procedures,’ as you call them, later. Let’s talk about something we can at least agree on: abortion.”
“If we must.”
“I hope-and I pray-that you can deny this. I’ve heard that you perform abortions in a clinic that deals in such things.”
“Did your informant tell you I have a policy of not performing the procedure after the first trimester?”
“What difference does that make?”
“A lot … to me … and to lots of people in the medical community-”
“That’s not a wart that’s growing in a pregnant woman!”
“It’s a zygote.”
“It’s a human being.”
“Come on … it’s two cells, for God’s sake!”
“For God’s sake, indeed! You’re killing a person.”
“Vince, with the union of a sperm and an egg there’s something that, left alone and with no trauma, will develop into a fully human being. I believe that happens during pregnancy. When? I’m not so sure. From the beginning, the multiplying cells will develop into a person. So, from fertilization to some point in the pregnancy only the most compelling reason can justify terminating. I believe it would be wrong to induce an abortion after that point unless there was some medical necessity … such as an ectopic pregnancy.”
“And you can terminate up to three months. Why not six? Eight?”
“After very long and serious study and consideration, three months seems right. Besides, Vince, the Church wants it both ways: You won’t prevent a pregnancy and you can’t terminate one.”
“Of course pregnancy can be prevented: rhythm and abstinence.”
“One is by no means foolproof and the other is unrealistic. Add to that, mistakes happen.”
Silence. Vincent studied his sister. She did not turn away.
“You won’t change, will you?” he said finally.
She shook her head, firmly.
“I don’t know whether you’re aware of it, but you are excommunicated.”
“What?”
“Anyone who performs an abortion, causes one, or provides needed assistance for one is automatically excommunicated.”
“What a terrible thing to say!” Lucy stood. “You may leave!”
“I can’t-”
“You … may … leave!”
Vincent stood. “I’ll pray for you.”
He didn’t need to don his clerical collar and vest; he hadn’t taken them off. Without further word, he left.
Tears flowed freely. Lucy loved her Church. She had turned down marriage proposals from two men. Not because she was not compatible with either of them, but because they were antagonistic to everything her Church meant to her.
She could not believe her Church would turn against her because of a prayerful and painful decision she had made-a decision that represented the best effort of her conscience.