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After about three weeks, Pope Innocent XIV was beginning to shake the ever-present anxiety that has been sitting in his gut since his elevation to the papacy. It was still there, of course, and he suspected it always would be, but after all of the celebrations, masses, and media appointments, he felt as though he had become comfortable with the familiar faces that now supported him throughout his busy days.
Thomas, of course, had been instrumental to both Vincent’s schedule and well-being. The Dean’s familiarity with the curia and the ins-and-outs of the papacy had kept the weeks following the conclave from falling into disarray. Thomas was steadfast, and it was his kindness and assuredness that had made Vincent keep him close at all costs.
Vincent relied on him heavily, and knew that wasn’t fair to the Dean, although he suspected Thomas didn’t mind. They had grown incredibly close the past three weeks, sharing meals together, attending meetings, and lingering for chats in Vincent’s apartment at the Casa Santa Marta after long, trying days. If Thomas ever decided to resign, Vincent thought selfishly, he wouldn’t know how to carry on without him.
Vincent knew that he couldn’t rely on Thomas for everything, though, and decided it would be wise to utilize the resources and people available to him. Which is why he now found himself making his way to the office of the Secretary of the College of Cardinals, Raymond O’Malley.
Ray had been an incredible help these past weeks as well. Organizing the finer details of press conferences, putting together packets of information about the politicians and heads of state Vincent was required to have an audience with, and always keeping a step ahead of any questions Vincent had or problems that might occur. But there had been a slight reserve in Ray whenever he approached the Pontiff. Vincent suspected that he was the one who had informed Thomas of his… situation. He wasn’t fully aware of how much Ray might know, but the Secretary of the College of Cardinals was never one to leave any stone unturned, any secret untouched. Vincent only hoped that this slight coldness came from an uncertainty of how to act around the new Pope, and not borne of a disgust towards Vincent’s situation.
Whatever the case may be, Vincent had made it a goal to take the time to get to know all of the Curia. He was a man of the people, and believed that a good relationship with the people you were surrounded with built into a stronger community.
And so, Pope Innocent made his way through the halls of the Apostolistic offices, in search of the Irishman. He had hoped he could catch him during a break and have a conversation with Ray, with the sole intention of breaking the light ice that had unexpectedly formed between them.
He scanned the name plates that lined the walls, until he found what he was looking for.
Msgr. Raymond O’Malley
Segretario del Collegio Cardinalizio
The door to the office was propped open, but the lights were off and the room sat empty. Vincent looked around the hall and spotted a young man in clerical robes, walking down the hall with his head down, looking at a handful of documents.
“Excuse me, but do you know when Monsignor O’Malley will return to his office?” Vincent asked in broken Italian.
The young minister glanced up from his papers and nearly fell backwards in shock, obviously not expecting to look up and see the literal pope standing before him.
“Santo Padre!” he exclaimed, clutching his papers to his chest.
“Forgive me!” Vincent started, reverting to English out of habit. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“No, you must forgive me your holiness,” The man said in English as well. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” He looked at the office where Vincent had gestured to a moment ago. “I believe the Monsignor left for lunch a short while ago. He should be back soon. Shall I prepare somewhere for you to wait? Get you some tea?” he asked, still in shock at the fact that he was talking to the Holy Father.
“That won’t be necessary, my child, but thank you.” Vincent said. “I’m sure he will be alright if I just wait in his office until he returns.” He touched the man’s arm and turned into the office, searching for a light switch.
He settled on illuminating the lamp that sat on the corner of the desk instead, casting a warm amber light into the dim room. He had always preferred lamps or candles over the cold, overstimulating glare of fluorescents. Vincent took a seat in one of the chairs positioned in front of Ray’s desk, letting his gaze wander around the room. He took a deep breath in, the air smelled old with dust as the particles danced around the office in the light cast from the windows.
He was never one to snoop through another’s belongings, but Vincent’s attention had been drawn to the many curiosities that resided in the office.
Behind the large oak desk sat three filing cabinets, lined in a row beneath the two windows at the back of the room. To the left stood floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that spanned almost the entire wall, stopping only a little ways out from where the desk stood. The shelves were packed with titles and bibles and tomes, matching leatherbound sets clustered together and aged paperbacks falling apart at the edges. On the right hand side, the desk continued, bending in an L-shape with a large printed calendar hung on the wall above, and what seemed to be a cork board cluttered with pinned papers next to it. The calendar was covered in a sea of multicolored pen markings, filling every square with notes and meetings and reminders, as well as a few sticky notes placed here and there. An outdated computer sat on the right hand side, with several spreads of papers and opened books laying deserted next to it.
But the most interesting thing to Vincent’s eyes was the colorful curation of trinkets, photographs and drawings that littered the shelves and the desk.
Between the lopsided stacks of books sat collections of crude, colorful hand made pots and tiny sculptures. A yellow yarn doll sat comfortably against a worn copy of The Harper Collins Study Bible . Midway through the stacks at about eye level stood a framed photograph with what looked to be a group of children, ages ranging from about five to ten, all standing in a line with their arms around each other's shoulders. They stood on a dock, soaking wet in their day clothes and wide grins on their faces, a grey sky and sea spreading out behind them. It looked as if they had been playfully shoved into the water and had just climbed out, giggling and pushing each other around. A plastic toy horse stood at attention on the shelf next to it.
On the desk sat a few more photographs. To Vincent’s delight he saw a young Ray, maybe in his mid to late twenties, full head of dark brown hair and in a green chasuble, posing with another ordained minister. They stood in what looked like an old cathedral, with exposed stone walls and vibrant stained glass windows. Next to that photograph sat a second frame; a black and white photograph of four young women, all maybe in their early twenties or late teens, and a young boy in a school uniform at the end of their lineup. The eldest woman held a swaddled baby.
Hanging on the wall besides the cluttered calendar were several more images. In them were Ray again, perhaps in his thirties and forties, attending a birthday party with the same children in the dock photograph. In another he sat at a pub with an elderly couple and the same four women from the other picture, all a little older now. Further down was a photograph of a young redheaded boy upon a horse in full dressage attire, a blue ribbon fixed on the mare’s saddle.
Vincent’s eyes continued to investigate the desk. He let out a chuckle as he fixated on a cup holding a collection of writing utensils. Amongst the usual black-inked ballpoints stood a bright teal pen with a frizzy puffball exploding from the end. Another pen had a little jack-o-lantern eraser grinning at him as it leaned sideways. Vincent inspected the piles of paper on the desk a little closer, and found that many of them were held together by butterfly-shaped paper clips.
Oh he was enjoying this. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded gently in his lap as he let his gaze wander about the room a bit more. There was much to see.
Above the office door hung a peculiar cross. Where most of the Curia would have placed a traditional crucifix, Raymond had adorned it with something else. This cross took more of a diamond shape, and looked like it was made out of rushes or straw. The center square spiraled around itself, bent and woven into a sturdy structure, and then sprawling out into four even arms. It reminded Vincent of a windmill.
As Vincent was craning his neck to get a better look at the cross, Raymond had come through the door.
”Your Holiness!” He exclaimed, taking a double take from the clipboard in his hands. “My apologies, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”
“No need to apologize, my friend. I hope you don’t mind my letting myself in.” Vincent replied, standing up.
“Not at all, Holy Father. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Ray gestured to the chair Vincent had just occupied. He sat back down.
“Is something the matter?” Ray asked as he walked around to his desk, setting down his clipboard and arranging some of the butterfly-clipped packets. He looked to be a little frazzled at Vincent’s unexpected appearance.
“Oh no,” Vincent waived his hand in a friendly gesture. “I had hoped to catch you before you had gone to lunch. I thought I would ask you to accompany me today. I haven’t gotten much time to get to talk to you outside of our meetings and errands.”
Ray looked a little guilty at this. “I’m sorry, Holy Father, I just got back from lunch.”
”Not to worry, Ray.” Said Vincent. “Are you busy now? I seem to have a rare break in my schedule and wouldn’t mind the company.”
”I should have some time. I have a meeting with Eminences De Luca and Landolfi in about an hour and was going to spend the time to arrange a few things. but that shouldn’t take long. You’re welcome to stay.” Ray said
”Thank you,” responded Vincent, and an awkward silence momentarily spread between them.
“Shall I make us some tea?” Ray gestured to a small electric kettle at the end of his desk.
”That would be wonderful,” said Vincent.
Ray set down his papers and turned the kettle on. Vincent supposed it was already full of water, Raymond was always on top of things and prepared ahead of time. Another silence spread over them as Ray searched his desk drawers for some teabags.
Vincent spoke, a slight hesitation in his voice. “I confess the reason I wanted to see you today is to get to know you a little better.” He takes a brief pause, organizing his thoughts. “You have been a great help to me these past weeks and I suspect you will continue to be.”
“Oh, its been no problem, your Holiness.” Replied Ray. “It’s my job as the secretary to prepare things for you and Thomas.” He pulled two interesting ceramic mugs from his desk, preparing the hot tea.
Vincent hummed, watching as Ray brought over the tea. He accepted his cup, and took a closer look at the ceramic object in his hand. It was a peculiar shape; a cylinder with a rounded bottom, and the body of the cup was pinched inward, as though to fit the shape of his hand. His fingers rested perfectly into the small divots pressed into the sides. Vincent looked at Ray’s mug to see if it was the same.
Ray’s mug was different however, with a low, rounded bowl shape and a handle with little flourishes that spread onto the cup.
“These are very interesting mugs.” Vincent commented, taking a sip of the tea.
“Ach, aren’t they just?” Ray said, looking proudly at his own cup. “My niece made them. She’s a very talented potter.”
”Your niece?” Vincent asks, leaning in for Ray to continue.
“Aye, one of many. I have four sisters, you see,” he says, and grabs one of the photographs from his desks, the one with the baby and the young boy in the school uniform. Vincent now recognizes him as a little ray, and his mouth curves into a smile.
”Is that you?” He asks, and points to the boy.
”Yes, I’m the youngest.” He points to the swaddled baby. “That’s my oldest niece, Rachel. Her sister Aoife is the one who made our mugs.”
“Do all your sisters have children?” Vincent asks.
”Every single one,” Ray confirms. “You can imagine how many nieces and nephews I have,” He says, and Vincent can hear the smile in his voice.
He sets the picture back down.
”Am I right to assume that many of your treasures are gifts from your family then?” Vincent asks, nodding to the bookshelves full of trinkets. “Forgive me, I couldn’t help but notice them as I was waiting for you.”
“Yes, a lot of them I’ve kept over the years, but they’re always mailing me things. Every time I fly out to visit them I come back with a few more items to add to my collection.” Ray says.
He stands up and walks over to the shelf, grabbing one of the wonky little pots and handing it to Vincent.
“That’s another one of Aoife’s, back when she was just a wain. She's always had a knack for ceramics.” He chuckles.
Vincent turns the pot over in his hands, admiring the vibrant, chaotic quality that only comes from a child.
”I love them,” Vincent says. “She’s so talented!”
He hands the pot back to Ray, who reverently places it back on the shelf.
“You have to introduce me to the rest of your family,” Vincent says, looking at the rest of the photographs scattered across the office. Ray dives right in.
He beckons Vincent to come closer and take a look, pointing at each frame and telling the pope a little about each one.
“And that’s my nephew, Connor,” he points to the boy on the horse. “He won Best Rider at the Leinster Dressage Youth Competition” Ray boasted, and a thoughtful expression crossed his face.
“It’s hard for me to believe they’re all grown now.” He said. “Each time I visit home they’re getting older and older. Rachel and Aoife already have wains of their own.” He stifled a laugh. “Last time I visited, Rachel had told them I was their ‘gruncle’, or great-uncle.”
”I’ve never heard that before,” Vincent smiled. He had not expected Ray to be so chatty when he came to see him, but it pleased him all the same. Hopefully, Vincent thought to himself, their conversations will continue to be warmer from now on.
“I don’t think their young ones quite understand what I do for work, see,” continued Ray. “My sister told them I work for the church, and their imaginations got a little creative.” he directed Vincent over to the cork board full of papers. Vincent realized that they weren’t documents, but rather a collection of crudely drawn pictures of Ray and… Jesus?
Vincent couldn’t hold in his laugh.
”They’ve taken the liberty of drawing what they think I do at work,” Ray explained as Vincent took a closer look at the drawings. One of Ray and the Son of God standing in a church, another of them going on a walk in a park, and Vincent’s personal favorite, a depiction of Ray and Christ Almighty on a road trip in a little red car. Each drawing was labeled in lopsided handwriting, to ensure the viewer knew exactly who they were looking at.
“Actually,” Ray started, then turned back to the pile of papers on his desk, where he pulls out an envelope that had been buried under the piles of paperwork.
“I suspect that this might have another addition to my gallery.” He says, and he shows Vincent the envelope with a return address from Kildare, Ireland. “It’s from my niece, and usually when the envelope feels this thick it usually means she’s included more wonderful artwork.”
He opens the letter, and just as he predicted, pulls out a handwritten letter and a folded, crayon-covered paper.
“Would you like to hear?” He asks Vincent as he holds open the letter. Vincent nods, and Ray begins to read out loud.
Dear Uncle Ray,
Habemus Papam! How are you? We're sure you've been pretty busy lately with the aftermath of the conclave. We all saw you on TV when they announced the new Holy Father! I tried pointing you out to Daniel and Ava on our screen, but they thought I was telling them that you had been made pope! Bless them, they're still so little. Connor and the others wanted me to ask you if you will be coming home for Christmas? It's coming up quick and the wains have been asking when they'll see you again. It's been a long time, and we miss you too! Let us know and we can arrange it. The little ones have also taken the liberty of drawing a few pictures for you, I've sent them in the envelope with this letter. Hope to hear from you soon!
All our love,
Mary, Rachel, Aoife, Connor, and all your sisters and niblings!
“What's a nibling?” Vincent asks, pointing to the last word of the letter.
“Oh, that just means nieces and nephews, as a general word” Ray chuckles.
“Ah, I see. Well they're right, you will have to go see them this Christmas!” Vincent replies matter-of-factly.
Ray's eyes shoot up to Vincent's in surprise. “B-but that's so soon! And Christmas is often the most hectic time here for us, I should definitely stay to help you through your first holidays here!”
“Nonsense, Ray, your family misses you! Yes our work here is important, but so is spending that time with a family that loves you and celebrating the birth of Christ,” Vincent says. Ray is about to object again when the Pontiff holds his hand up to interrupt.
“Besides, Thomas and the others have been a great help, I'm sure things will go smoothly. You deserve a Christmas with your family, Raymond. You work so hard.”
Ray looks down at his hands, eventually letting a smile form on his lips. “If you insist, your Holiness.”
He looks back down at the letter and envelope in his hands, and pulls out the remaining drawings from his great niece and nephew.
“Oh this is easily the best of all the drawings they've sent you,” Vincent laughs at Ray’s side, looking over his arm.
Crudely drawn on a piece of printer paper is a colorful crayon image of Raymond in his cassock, and Pope Innocent XIV next to a square orange house with a red roof, labeled “Uncle Ray” and “the Pope.”
Ray stifles a laugh over Vincent’s shoulder. “It certainly is the best so far! They’re artistry is improving with every drawing.”
Vincent takes the liberty of walking behind Rays’ desk and pinning the drawing to the cork board, placing it proudly in the center.
“Well, Monsignor,” Vincent begins, “it was wonderful to get to talk to you a little more. I’ll leave you to your preparations.”
”Anytime, Holy Father.” He responds with a grin on his lips. “Please let me know if I can do anything for you.”
Vincent turns to leave his office, patting his shoulder as he walks past Ray’s desk. As he approaches the door, he again notices the peculiar cross above the frame.
”Ah, and I was curious, Ray, what is the story behind the cross above your door?” The Pope points a thumb over his shoulder.
“Oh that? That is Saint Brigid’s cross. Back in Ireland during her feast day in February, we weave those crosses to celebrate Saint Brigid. It’s one of my favorite traditions back home. I’ve always been drawn to her, you see. Both she and I are from Kildare.”
Ray looks proudly at the cross above his office door. “It was always quite a spiritual experience, for me. I think it was my fascination for Saint Brigid that drew me to the ministry, amongst other things. I try to find the time every February first to weave a new cross and pray and meditate.”
Vincent looks back to the cross, reflecting this.
“Perhaps next year I shall weave one for you, your Holiness.” Ray suggests.
Vincent’s face lights up in delight. “Would you? That was quite a beautiful story, Ray. It would honor me greatly to have your handiwork bless my space!”
As Ray nodded in agreement, Vincent had an idea.
“Perhaps you can even teach me how to make one myself, I’ve always enjoyed keeping my hands busy.”
Now it was Ray’s turn to light up.
”I would very much like that, your Holiness. I haven’t been able to properly celebrate her feast day with anyone in a long time.”
With that, they gave each other a warm goodbye, and Vincent felt that his mission was a success. There didn’t feel to be any awkwardness left between them anymore, and he found himself greatly looking forward to learning more about Raymond’s background in the coming February.
He walked back down the hallways of the Apostolistic offices, a giddiness in his steps, thinking about crayon drawings and clay pots, and the orange house with the red roof that he and Raymond supposedly shared.