The Serpent

By M. Schuler

It was a cold night. It was a foggy night, and sixteen-year-old Teresa Kelly wanted desperately to go to the record store across town. After an exhausting debate, her softhearted father relented. "Yes!" Teresa said, smiling wily at her father and turning up the car radio. Teresa did not hear the scream of the brakes. Teresa did not see her father's head fall into her crushed lap.The one person she loved and trusted was gone, and Teresa was left to rehabilitate a life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781640827059

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THE SERPENT

M. S. Schuler

Copyright © 2017 M. S. Schuler

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-64082-704-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64082-705-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

I would like to dedicate this book to my mother — without

her endless encouragement, hours of editing, and being my

biggest cheerleader, the Serpent would have never been written.

And also to the real Father John, whose stories and

homilies inspired me every Sunday.

Prologue

1981

I know, I know, Jessie, I will call you when he gets here! I’m looking out the window right now, and he’s not here! Jessie—I gotta go. I’ll call you later . . . bye.

Teresa, what’s that all about? Jim said, glancing at his daughter over his newspaper.

Daddy, Josh is coming over. He just got a new car, and we’re going to drive around to show it off!

Jim chuckled at his daughter’s enthusiasm. He glanced at his wife, Kate, who shot him that I don’t know, Jim look. Jim knew that his daughter was bound to engage in some harmless teenage antics. She was a good kid and had never given them a moment’s trouble.

Daddy, I’m going downstairs to get the mail.

Jim grinned. Are you sure you’re not going to see if Jonah’s down there?

It’s Josh! Teresa said, exasperated. I’ve told you a million times!

Teresa bounded out of the living room of their expansive Manhattan apartment. Jim was now an executive vice president of Peterson and Lawrence Advertising Agency. Their spacious apartment sits in the heart of Manhattan’s elite neighborhood. Wiping her hands on her dishcloth, Kate sat next to her husband.

I don’t want Teresa going in a strange boy’s car. Especially here, the traffic is so bad. Jim, you know how teenagers drive! She’s our only child, and I want to keep her safe.

Jim flashed that mischievous grin that made his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the room’s large picture windows. Oh, Kate, my love, she is sixteen years old. She is a good kid. We have raised her in the church, and she knows right from wrong. Nothing is going to happen to our daughter. He planted a large kiss on Kate’s delicate lips. Please don’t worry. I love you, darling.

Laughing, Kate playfully tickled her husband of seventeen years. I love you too!

"Come on, you guys, gross! Teresa said, walking past her parents. She was carrying mail and reading a newspaper. Mom, isn’t Gardnerville where Grandma and Grandpa O’Reilly used to live before they died?"

Yes, dear, that is also where your grandma and grandpa Kelly live. Why?

"Somebody sent us this newspaper . . . Gardnerville Gazette . . . Who would send us this?" Teresa remembered when she was a little girl, her grandmother would occasionally send her mother clippings from the newspaper for instances such as an old school friend’s marriage or a birth announcement. But never an entire newspaper, and after her grandmother’s death, the mailings had ceased. It had been several years since Kate, Jim, and Teresa had traveled back to their hometown of Gardnerville, Nevada, a small farming community nestled in the foothills of the mighty Sierra Nevada Mountains. Mr. and Mrs. Kelly delighted in traveling to the Big Apple to visit their son, daughter, and granddaughter. Moreover, they enjoyed the city food, sights, and lights, a much-needed break from the mundane life on their sprawling acres in Gardnerville.

Teresa read the headline on the front page aloud. St. Thomas Catholic Church to receive a new pastor—Father Patrick Michael Donovan named bishop to the diocese of Reno, Nevada. She turned to her mother. Father Donovan? Isn’t he the priest who baptized me?

Yes, dear, he is also the one who married your father and me.

Teresa resumed reading: Father John Rossi is named as acting pastor at St. Thomas. After serving in the air force in Vietnam, Father Rossi was ordained a Catholic priest by Bishop Maher of San Diego County in 1972. Father Rossi returns to Gardnerville, where he was raised by the late Anthony Rossi, and graduated from St. Thomas High School in 1963. Teresa looked up from the paper. Wow, Mom, that’s right around the time that you graduated . . . did you know him?

Kate fumbled with the dishtowel that was in her hand, and looked at her daughter with a nonchalant expression. Yes, I do remember John Rossi. Very interesting that he is the new pastor of St. Thomas.

Who would send us this newspaper? Teresa asked, puzzled.

Oh, I don’t know, maybe Grandma and Grandpa Kelly.

That answer satisfied Teresa, who happily trotted over to the huge plate-glass living-room window that overlooked the busy Manhattan Boulevard. Oh my gosh! Josh is here! Mom, how do I look?

Jim admired his lovely daughter, who had thick, dark hair neatly combed. Her eyes were so expressive—round and dark as the night in wintertime. She inherited her mother’s ivory skin, which completed her porcelain doll-like features. You are the most beautiful girl in Manhattan!

Oh, Daddy, you’re prejudiced! Teresa laughed. You’re only saying that because I am your daughter.

The intercom’s buzzer rang out, sounding the arrival of Teresa’s friend. After okaying his entrance, he was at the door. Teresa opened the door. Hi, Josh, she cooed. Come in! Daddy, this is Josh Bannister. Josh, this is my mom and dad, Jim and Kate Kelly.

Nice to meet you, sir, Josh said, firmly shaking Jim’s hand. Then he turned to Kate. I am very pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard so much about you.

As we have of you. Jim smiled and winked at his daughter. Teresa shot her father a piercing look. Where are you two off to?

I thought we’d drive around in my new car. I don’t have anything special planned.

Kate nervously smiled at the teens and reluctantly said, You want to drive around in all this traffic? Well, please drive carefully. Teresa, stay out of trouble. Remember, we trust you.

Yes, Mother! Teresa gasped and took Josh’s hand and led them out of the door. Bye, Daddy, she called over her shoulder.

Goodbye, Princess.

Kate sat on the overstuffed white sofa in their spacious living room. The room was expensively decorated with a large Persian rug covering the dark, rich hardwood floors. This was far from her modest upbringing in a small two-bedroom farmhouse with peeling paint on the front porch that her daddy was always touching up. She looked over at her crystal collection displaying in a large china cabinet, which was the room’s centerpiece. She was lost in thought of how her mama would have loved to have crystal and china. Mama only had one set of plates, white with blue trim, that she bought in a store in Reno when they were first married.

Can you believe it, John actually made it? Jim laughed, reading the paper that Teresa had brought in, snapping Kate back to the present. He’s now ‘Father John.’ It might be interesting to see if he’s changed after all these years.

Kate’s temper flared. Bite your tongue! I have no interest in seeing John Rossi. I don’t think that is funny, Jim Kelly! Don’t joke like that!

Loosen up, Kate, I was just kidding, Jim laughed. Remember, tomorrow’s your birthday, and Teresa and I are going shopping tomorrow for your birthday present. You’ll have the whole house to yourself!

Kate laughed at her giddy husband. She truly loved him and his devotion to his family. After the birth of Teresa, Jim and Kate adjusted to the fact that they would never have the large family of their dreams. Consequently, the three of them were a close-knit family, who enjoyed each other’s company. Teresa had become quite the daddy’s girl over the years and had her father wrapped around her little finger. The delight of having Teresa gave them immense joy, so much so that additional children could not have given them anymore.

Kate picked up the newspaper from the rich oak table and began to read the current events of her hometown of Gardnerville. She was proud that John Rossi fulfilled his dream of becoming a servant of God. She thought about John, and what he would be like as a priest. She imagined him performing Mass and how proud the parishioners of St. Thomas must be, having one of their own leading their church. Feeling tired, Kate settled down on the white sofa and closed her eyes. She began to see John Rossi in her dreams. It was safe now. She and Jim were married seventeen years and had a secure, loving relationship.

The sound of the door slamming startled Kate from her afternoon nap. Groggily, she looked to see her daughter’s smiling face. Teresa possessed such boundless energy, and Kate often wished she had some of it. Hi, Mom! Well, what do you think of Josh? Isn’t he cute!

Cute as a bug in a rug. Kate yawned.

Jim walked in, eating a cookie, Hi, Princess, you’re home early. I wasn’t expecting you home until dinnertime.

Josh had to be home to pick up his little sister at her friend’s house.

I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t we go shopping today for Mom’s birthday, instead of tomorrow? We can get some dinner together. Does that sound like a good idea?

Sounds like a great idea! Teresa exclaimed, turning to her mother with pleading eyes. Is that okay with you, Mom?

Kate relished the idea of an afternoon to herself. She grinned at her family. Wonderful idea!

Jim hugged his understanding wife and whispered his love in her ear. He winked as he and his daughter headed out for a great day of shopping and dining.

The house seemed extremely quiet to Kate as she finished the remaining bites of her Chinese take-out dinner. She used the remote control on the television, scanning for something entertaining to watch. As usual, the only thing to watch was the local news: a murder here, a robbery there, and a seven-car pile-up on Highway 95. Sure glad Jim and Teresa are sticking around Manhattan, Kate thought, turning the set off, disgusted at the lack of viewing choices. Now what was she going to do? She grinned to herself, knowing that she was going to enjoy a bathtub full of hot bubbles without being interrupted.

Whistling happily, she walked down the hall into the master suite of her apartment. The master bedroom is what sold Kate on this apartment. It was spacious with tiled counters and a large garden tub surrounded by indoor plants of all varieties.

She scanned the magazine selections, looking for the new arrivals that she had not yet read. Finding just the right one, she began to fill the enormous tub. Dropping bath beads in the water, she slowly dipped her foot in the warm water.

Perfect! she said to herself, allowing the water to envelop her entire body. She lay there with her eyes closed, dreaming about her future. She was a student at New York University and was close to receiving her degree in teaching. She was finishing her requirement of one semester of student teaching at the local elementary school with a challenging age group—sixth grade.

Kate had always loved children and was devastated when she could not have any more children of her own. After Teresa entered first grade, Kate decided it was her time to begin thinking about a career. Jim encouraged her every step on her educational journey, often tutoring her in tougher-than-expected courses. Now, it was nine years later, and Kate was finally nearing her goal, deciding twelve-year-old students were the challenging age group that she preferred.

Beginning in the fall, she would be the sixth grade teacher at Fourth Street School. A proposition that was both exciting and frightening to Kate, realizing she would be in charge instead of merely assisting the classroom teacher. She smiled to herself thinking it was only May and she had the entire summer to enjoy, without studies or the classroom. Perhaps she, Jim, and Teresa could take a trip to Florida to soak up the sun and enjoy the warm waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Kate grabbed her magazine, opened it, and settled in to an interesting article. The buzzer on the intercom interrupted her—insisting to be answered. Kate sat there for a moment, annoyed by the person behind the buzzer. After a few minutes of aggravation, listening to the persistence of the person on the other side of her door, she grumbled and exited her paradise.

I can never take a bath in peace! she ranted, walking toward the front door in her thick terry-cloth bathrobe.

Now someone was at her front door, frantically knocking. As Kate hurried toward the commotion, she was sure that Jim and Teresa had forgotten their door key. Passing the mirror hanging next to the door, she cringed at her reflection. She hoped it was Jim and Teresa because she did not want a stranger to see her in this state. It had to be, who else could have passed through security in the lobby. She reached out to turn the doorknob.

Opening the door, her heart immediately began to pound. Standing in front of her were two uniform police officers with grim looks on their faces. The taller one with a note pad in his hand spoke first, Are you Mrs. Kate Kelly?

Yes, Kate began to tremble uncontrollably. This doesn’t really happen, she thought. The police do not come to your house to tell you bad news the way they do in the movies. Everything began to blur and her ears started to ring. She could hear herself screaming, Oh my god. Oh my god!

I

1964

Dirty patches of snow still covered the heavily shaded spots on the gravel road leading to St. Thomas Catholic Church. As he walked, John noticed the daffodils beginning to emerge from the ground. The trees had brilliant green leaves hanging from their newly refreshed branches. Spring was John favorite season because it represented the birth of all living things. Spring was green and fresh, with a promise of wonderful things to come. John was an optimist, and his devout belief in God allowed him to accept whatever happened . . . happened for a reason. He did not hear the gravel that softly crunched under his feet as he walked. Immersed in deep thought, he was thinking about his future—a subject that lately consumed much if his time.

The sun was shining down on the young man as he traveled down the road, and he welcomed the much-needed warmth. He could feel the rays penetrate his body, almost in a divine way. Finally, he arrived at his intended destination—St. Thomas. This was truly John’s sanctuary; an impressive brick structure that was over a century old. Its stained glass windows depicted various stages of Jesus Christ’s life and death. The high vaulted ceilings echoed the arrival of Sunday parishioners through its grand doors. The acoustics of the massive pipe organ bellowed throughout its mural-painted walls. The church was John’s home.

He opened one side of the heavy double doors and stepped in. He dipped his finger in the holy water and slowly crossed himself. Closing his eyes, he recited the trinity as he crossed himself. A serene feeling engulfed him as he felt the moisture of the holy water on his forehead. He looked around the church; it was empty. He paused at the end of the pews, studying the altar where the Eucharist was celebrated each day. He felt drawn to this life, wanting to bring the word of God to the people of Gardnerville. Every day, he watched as Father Donovan transformed bread and water into the components of Jesus Christ. John wanted that power! Genuflecting toward the altar, John entered a long row of wooden pews. Pulling down the heavy mahogany kneeler in front of him, John prayerfully bowed on top.

As he prayed, he held tightly between his hands a heavy wooden cross that he wore around his neck when he attended Mass. The cross had been a family heirloom, given to him by Father Joseph Rossi, his uncle. By accepting the cross, John knew that it had significant meaning. God had called Father Rossi to give that symbol to John. John knew that God was calling him to be His servant, he wanted to obey.

He prayed intently. He prayed for answers, for he deeply loved a young girl named Kate O’Reilly. Why did he feel such affection for this girl if he was to join the priesthood? Why was the temptation so great? As he prayed, a small stream of tears trickled down his cheeks. He felt so torn between two loves—the church and Kate O’Reilly. Subconsciously, he caressed the wooden cross with his fingertips. Feeling the sharp wooden corners, John thought of how heroic Jesus was, dying for our sins. His mind wandered to the one sin that had been tempting him. He had been so close to committing this sin, and if not for Kate, it would have already been accomplished.

Soon he would be a recruit in the United States Air Force—enlisted, not drafted. The threat of the United States going to war in Vietnam loomed near, and John knew that he could be drafted soon. John felt compelled to join the Air Force. He had always dreamed about serving in the armed forces. As a child, his father told him grand stories of himself as a bomber pilot in World War II. John loved to hear the exciting stories of his father’s stay in Europe, and knew one day he, too, would join the air force.

Maybe this time away from home would answer some of the questions that hovered over John like a dark storm cloud. He hope his time away from Gardnerville, a tiny town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range, the only thing he knew, would help him decide his life’s path. There were so many people in his hometown that just assumed John would join the seminary and become their local hometown priest. John was so confused, not sure if the priesthood was his true calling.

His mind could not leave Kate. Her sweet, pure face was engraved in his memory and consumed most of his thoughts. His heart ached with the realization that he would never be able to feel her warm breath, or hear the sound of her laughter for such a long time. Yes, he needed to get away from Gardnerville; he knew he was making the right decision.

John, would you please help me? Father Donovan asked, interrupting John’s thoughts. Father Donovan knew of John’s religious devotion and was pleased to see him at church every day. John often helped prepare the church for daily worship, replacing candles, answering phones, and assisting the pastor. I am sure going to miss you when you leave, John. Father Donovan spoke as he arranged the silver chalice and ciborium on the altar.

I will miss you too Father. I will miss everything about Gardnerville.

Father Donovan reached out and patted John’s back. John, I understand the way you are feeling, The priest paused, taking a deep breath, believe me son, I once loved a girl before my calling. Remember John, only you know what God is asking of you. Don’t deny God, for he is truly persistent and will not cease until you obey His commands. God is patient, caring and loving, and will help you work through your turmoil in due time.

John just stared at his mentor. He felt so lucky to have a model as strong as Father Donovan, who was always available for John whenever he needed to talk. When John felt alone and there was no one to turn to, Father Donovan was always there. He never ceased to listen with an attentive ear to John, always offering sound advice.

Thank you for your words of wisdom, Father— John stopped, interrupted by a family entering for Sunday afternoon worship.

Is it that time already? Father Donovan smiled at the family who entered his parish. He turned to John, You will be staying for Mass, won’t you?

After confirming that he will stay, John glanced at his watch. It was nearly two o’clock. Where had the time gone? He would be late to her house, once again. Kate was so sweet and loving she would surely understand, she always did.

John returned to his place in the pew. He scanned today’s reading: John 3:9–21. His attention remained on one certain passage, even after the completion of the opening hymn . . . "And even as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so much the son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him will not perish but will have eternal life." He contemplated the intriguing passage. Yes, he did believe—believe strongly in the Lord. Was God sending John a message to trust Him and everything would turn out right? Softly John whispered, Lord, I will do your will.

The Mass continued for nearly an hour. John received the Eucharist, and his soul exalted as the sanctified bread entered his being. The closing hymn playing on the grand organ, but John continued kneeling . . . praying. Feeling emotionally drained, he slowly crossed himself and sat back in the pew. Sitting on the hardwood benches, he waited until most of the Sunday parishioners, in their usual hurry, had left.

As he was leaving his sanctuary, he glanced down at his watch, Oh darn, it’s after three thirty. I better hurry up and get to Kate’s house!

He rushed down the familiar gravel road and through the streets of Gardnerville. His town was a western ranching and farming community—mostly dairy cows and hay fields. He loved the enormous cottonwood trees that lined the path to Kate’s house. He picked up some pebbles from a small creek that was swiftly flowing from the snow-melt. His hands became cold from the icy water, so he put them in his pocket for warmth. It was late March and still quite chilly when evening approached.

He came upon a small, modest farmhouse with peeling paint. There he saw Kate sitting on the front porch with her best friend and confidante, Jim Kelly. Kate’s entire face lit up when she noticed John approaching the house.

There he is Jim, thanks for keeping me company. Kate beamed as she stood from the porch swing; her heart fluttering at the sight of the handsome Italian boy. John’s wavy dark hair was neatly trimmed above his ears. He had a naturally muscular build and an olive skin tone. His eyes were round and dark which completed his model-type look. His outstretched arms snugly hugged her. Kate felt so safe and secure with him—in his arms. She could feel the beating of his heart and kept very still, concentrating on the rhythm of his beats. Kate knew he had come from church, she also knew the conflict that he was unsuccessfully trying to hide from her. Kate knew that God was calling John and he was struggling with an answer.

Kate and John had met at St. Thomas High School. They both had deep religious convictions and naturally gravitated toward each other. Kate believed they were brought together for a specific purpose and was intrigued by what may come of their union. Kate wanted to marry John, but at only seventeen and high school graduation only a few weeks away, she realized that marriage was not an option at this time. John had already graduated from St. Thomas’ winter class of 1963. She could not believe that she had only one more week with him.

Kate deeply loved John and wanted to spend every minute of every day with him. She shuddered at the thought of what her life would be like next week when John would leave for the Air Force. She did not want him to go, and could not bear the thought of being apart from him for a week—let alone four years. She remembered the analogy of the butterfly, If you set it free and it returns; it was meant to be.

Where do you want to go tonight? John’s voice interrupted her thoughts, his warm body still embracing hers.

Why don’t we stay here and watch a little TV? Kate suggested, smiling wily. That was something the couple often did. Kate’s parents were elderly and retired early to bed. They had the whole house to themselves, sometimes getting intimate on the living room couch. Kate never let the affection go too far, feeling bad for John who often times had a hard time catching his breath. The prospect of making love to John was both exciting and frightening. She so desperately wanted the act to happen on their wedding night, but John was about to leave her life for four years! She began to reflect on her resolve.

Jim sat alone on the porch swing, watching his life-long friend embrace the good-looking Italian boy. He felt a twinge of jealousy creep into his body as he viewed John and Kate’s affection for each other. He was very protective of Kate, she was his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine life without her. He eyed John suspiciously, trying to sum up his intentions. He did not want to see Kate get hurt. As unselfish as it seemed, if John made Kate happy—then that is what Jim wanted.

Expelling a long breath through his lips, Jim stood up from the swing, his pant cuffs riding high above his ankles. I’ll see you later Kate. Bye, John, he called, half-heatedly waving his arm.

John returned the wave as the lanky farm boy walked off toward his home. Kate did not notice Jim leave. When she was with John, she was consumed only by him.

Poor Jim, Kate said taking John’s hand and walking toward the house. I keep hoping one day, he’ll find a nice girl to fall in love with and be happy.

One of these days, he’ll find the girl of his dreams. John responded. How are you doing giving up chocolate for lent?

Piece of cake, hopefully not chocolate, Kate laughed. John you never told me what you gave up for lent?

The same thing that I give up all year round, John joked, raising his eyebrows at Kate. Kate loved John’s dry sense of humor. He could always make her laugh.

The couple arrived inside the farmhouse, which was neat and clean, even though the furniture was quite worn. There was a large picture of St. Patrick on the mantle above the fireplace, a reminder of Kate’s ethnic background. Katherine Marie O’Reilly was the only daughter of Irish immigrant parents, who came to this country when she was four years old. The elder O’Reilly’s had left the turmoil in Ireland so their daughter would have more opportunities and a chance for a better life. They were in their late forties, had already raised two sons, when the miracle of pregnancy was discovered. Kate’s brothers remained in Ireland and had never been to the United States to see their parents and little sister. Her parents never had enough money to return to their homeland, but through letters, always kept in constant correspondence with their sons.

Kate had a happy childhood as the only child of doting parents. Her mother baked, sewed, and focused endless energy toward her. Her father worked very hard on the farm that the family had established, but always had time to spend with the apple of his eye. Kate had been raised in a strict Roman Catholic environment and reared in parochial schools that her parents could scarcely afford. Her father was a dairy farmer, tending to nearly one hundred cattle a day. Her mother never ventured far from the two-bedroom house. Kate did not lack quality in her life, knowing that she was loved very much.

Kate resembled her father with a head full of shocking orange hair and soft blue eyes. Like her father, her heart was