OâToole was motivated by a passion for orthodoxy. Edna had forewarned him of Desmondâs coming and made it clear that his heresy hunting was part of his campaign to win back Maud Gorman from Austin Rooney. It seemed an ignoble indignation.
âTell me about your literary work.â
âI would have severed my connection with the paper if any book by James Joyce was reviewed in the Tribune .â
âWell, I suppose his reputation is secure.â
âI donât know how much of Joyce youâve read, Father.â
âI was going to ask you the same question.â
âOh, I read it all. As a professional duty. The poetry is a thing apart, lyrically beautiful, but things already start to go wrong in Dubliners.â
Father Dowling rose to stop the oral book review he was certain threatened. He told Desmond that he would have a word with Austin Rooney. Of course he did not say what about.
âYou are a good pastor who looks after his sheep,â Desmond said unctuously, and left.
âHeâs just jealous of Austin,â Marie said when he was gone.
âOh, you heard. I didnât realize he was speaking so loudly.â
Marie ignored this. âAustin, by the way, is Colleen Gallagherâs uncle. Her mother was his sister.â
âWas?â
âSheâs gone to God.â
The following day Father Dowling stopped by Ednaâs office and they talked generally about the Center. Under Ednaâs direction it had flourished. She knew how to strike a balance between too much fuss and too little, leaving alone those who just wanted to be there, providing games, excursions, and shopping trips on the parish shuttle bus for those so inclined.
âIâve talked with Desmond OâToole.â
Ednaâs eyes drifted heavenward. âAbout the dance?â
âDance? He came to me about Austin Rooneyâs literary opinions.â
âWell, the dance has just come up. Austin and Maud got the idea when he did a few waltz steps with her in the gym and others applauded the performance. Austin invited the others to dance, but they held back, and thatâs when he suggested that the center have a dance some evening, with a band and everything. The enthusiasm carried them all right up to my office. What do you think?â
âWhy not?â
âFor one thing, it would take their minds off that girl who was pushed into the street during the rush hour a few days ago. Some find a morbid fascination in her death.â
âHer name was Linda Hopkins. Iâve talked with Phil Keegan about it.â
Edna observed a moment of silence.
âA band would cost money.â
âI have one restriction, Edna. No rock band. It must be a band that plays music.â
âOh, thereâs no danger of rock with this group. They want golden oldies. Desmond OâToole is a lonely voice in opposition.â
âHow can he oppose a dance?â
âI didnât encourage him to tell me why.â
Desmond was downstairs, a dour Savanarola surveying the inane recreation going on in the converted gymnasium.
âI havenât had a chance to speak with Austin yet, Desmond. Is he here?â
âHe is doubtless off on the primrose path of dalliance with some unsuspecting lady.â
âThe mark of the literary page is still on you.â
âPerhaps you will support my idea of an excursion to visit the cathedral.â
âThatâs quite a distance.â
âBut such an objective.â
âWork it out, Desmond. But be sure to schedule it to avoid peak traffic times.â
âIt will only be possible if we take the interstates.â
âKeep me posted.â
Austin Rooney was seated on a bench, looking pensively over the parish grounds. Father Dowling sat beside him, intending to have a
word about something or other with Austin, to redeem his promise to Desmond.
âWhy so somber, Austin?â
âLife is a