2020-01-20 - The Priest & I
Isabella wants information. Father Daniel provides.
IC Date: 2020-01-20
OOC Date: 2019-09-18
Location: Gray Harbor/Saint Mary's Church
Related Scenes: 2019-12-26 - Suspicious Minds 2020-01-14 - Cartography Club 2020-01-23 - Almost Normal 2020-02-03 - The Disappeared
Plot: None
Scene Number: 3664
Mondays are never very busy church days; Saint Mary's remains open for the faithful, but there are few cars in the lot. Most of the visitors this afternoon are to the cemetery, visiting dead loved ones and putting new flowers on graves. Thus, the church house itself is quiet and makes for a more convenient meeting place than Father Daniel's tiny shoe box of an office.
The aging church official is garbed in his standard robes and sits at the pew at the very front of the church. By all accounts, Father Daniel is a pleasant man who embodies the teachings of Christ; he is kind and generous and was very gracious in accepting this meeting with Isabella - even if he resolutely refused her access to the church's record keeping. At least he seems open to discussion, even if said discussion is in front of Jesus Himself, who looks down from His cross at the very front of the church, always watchful.
"Isabella Reede," his voice shakes with age, but his smile is warm and patient. "Come sit, make yourself comfortable."
Churches are common stops in her line of work - for all of the dubiousness surrounding the Bible's factual accounts, themselves, the book's value as not just a historical record, but a sprawling geographical one focused on the ancient and turbulent times of the Fertile Crescent and its surrounding areas, is one that can't be denied; every archaeologist has studied it, whether religious or not, oftentimes a required course in her major and field of study. So their smells are familiar, their layouts and styles are familiar.
This building, in particular, occupies her more faded memories - playing on the grounds with Byron Thorne and her twin brother, attending mass on Sundays with her mother and Isidore, being baptized and confirmed per Irene's wishes. Her father was never a part of the congregation, however, though he grudgingly attended during Christmas and Easter - war had ripped any inclinations towards Faith out of him.
For a Catholic, Isabella is extremely lapsed - the way most grown children are, especially when gone away from their devout relatives' sides for so long. "Father Daniel," she greets quietly, keeping her voice low, and the old mannerisms are remembered, at least. Her hand extends to take the aged priest's, if he allows, and presses her forehead against his knuckles. "I...well, I can believe you're still here." He had arrived in Gray Harbor four years before she left it. "...just that I didn't think you would remember me, it's been a very long time. Thank you, for this." She eases down into the offered seat.
Father Daniel extends his hand and allows for the pleasantries, but he does seem to be rather lax in the formality of it all. His smiles are easily given as Isabella makes herself comfortable, the comment on her belief - and his remembrance of her - earning her a deep chuckle. "It'll be sixteen years this summer," he says of his being here, "And I may be old, Miss Reede, but not yet old enough to forget names. Especially when they just called my office asking for access to Church records after having not shown up to Mass in some years," It's a gentle ribbing; there's a glimmer of amusement in his blue eyes.
"But we can skip the parts where we talk about your soul," he chuckles once more. "I'll just make sure you have a copy of the Mass schedule on your way out the door. So tell me," he waves a hand encouragingly. "What is it that you are so desperate to know?"
There's a bright grin. "I remember, you came to Gray Harbor the year before I was confirmed." Thirteen years old, all gangly limbs and wearing a scratchy white dress that she absolutely hated, but Isabella's not going to tell Father Daniel that. But the gentle ribbing does get a sheepish look, as if fully expecting her knuckles to get rapped by a ruler.
"Forgive me, Father, I didn't think the rules were different here, that was my oversight - I guess I'm just accustomed to the parish registries in the UK." Where records could be accessed for research purposes. "Most are shifting to online databases now, do you think St. Mary's will be doing the same?"
There's a grateful look cast to him when he decides to sideskip talking about the state of her soul. "I was doing some personal research on the Addington Park Carousel, to supplement what records we do have in the Historical Society - the Chairwoman mentioned something about perhaps putting a commemorative plaque on it if we could find out who actually carved the horses. One of our local investigators then managed to unearth an old case about its former operator's missing daughter, Jill Baxter. She was never found, and the newspaper archives revealed very little about the case so I thought I could try and find out more about the family." She hesitates, but decides to go ahead with it. "...it's old family history for me, also. My mother's. I have the name of Jill's father - Jacob, but I'm curious as to who her mother was, so I thought I could find out through the records that St. Mary's might have."
"Ah, well. There's nothing to forgive, and I don't take confessions on Mondays anyway. So you are fine," Daniel laughs warmly as he settles back, bushy brows lifting gently at the talk of shifting to an online database. "Oh, I don't know about that, Miss Reede. It hasn't been a real discussion, to be honest with you. Maybe if we had someone capable of doing the work, it'd be something to consider.. But there are a lot of other things that the church needs to concern itself about, first." He doesn't go on about what those things are though.
There's quiet after as Isabella explains what she's after, a thoughtful pause as he digests the information. "I see," he murmurs contemplatively, but there's a sticking point: "Is the Historical Society truly considering putting up a commemorative plaque for a man who was convicted for crimes against children, Miss Reede? Surely the Society knows its own history. It was a particularly dark mark, though I doubt anyone knew at the time," he looks quite unimpressed.
"Is the Church in trouble?" Isabella wonders, genuine curiosity there, when the man indicates that the organization has other things to be concerned about than prioritizing the accessibility of its records. "Not enough donations, or...?"
When told about someone convicted for crimes against children, she does look genuinely surprised. "That information wasn't passed onto me," she tells the priest honestly with a furrow-browed look. "Just that one of the Carousel's former operators had a daughter named Jill, who went missing after riding the Carousel the day Elvis' death hit the press, during the 1970's. Was it Jacob who was convicted, or the person who carved the horses on the Carousel...or were they the same person? I wasn't all too clear on the fact as to whether Jacob Baxter was the Carousel's first operator or just simply one in a line."
"Trouble? Oh, goodness no," Daniel poo-poos the suggestion with a quick flick of his fingers. "But have you seen the current state of our tiny little world, Miss Reede? Take a walk along the Boardwalk tonight, see the people who've gone weeks without a decent meal, and then you can come back and talk to me of online databases if you really think our priority should be there. I'm sure you'll see what I do though; we have turned a blind eye for far too long." It brings a frown to his lips, a frown that remains as she talks of the carousel.
"I don't know about the operators, in truth. I do know of the original creator. They were not one and the same," he explains. "But I wouldn't be so concerned about carousel operators, dear. The seventies were a long time ago, and it doesn't take much skill to press a button or turn a key, you know? As far as I'm aware, the city hires those positions and has for quite some time, at least since I've been here. A seasonal position, that one. Lately, it's just been high school kids looking for a minimum wage job over the summer." He lifts a weary shoulder in a shrug.
As for the child, the frown deepens. "It is sad to hear about a child gone missing though. Still.. forty some years ago, I'm not sure of the interest."
"A friend of mine did a food drive this past Thanksgiving for the homeless, and quite a few members of the community showed up to assist, regardless of faith and denomination, but there have been too little charitable endeavors on that end lately," Isabella replies in agreement. "I think if the Church organized such things, people will come, Father."
Her skin crawls at the idea of the original creator of the Carousel being a child predator, because how he seemed to express himself through art makes a disturbing amount of sense. "Who was he?" she asks. "The original creator? I'll definitely inform the Chairwoman that a commemorative plaque wouldn't be appropriate under the circumstances and in light of new information...or old information recently unearthed. As for the missing child...she's a distant relation. I obtained a genealogical map of my mother's family, recently, and I've been trying to ascertain its accuracy and honestly, I don't think I would've been so interested in digging into the Carousel further until that information had come to me. Was Jill Baxter ever christened?"
"Yes, yes. I am aware of the food drive. But one drive, Miss Reede, does not a movement make. It was honorable of your friend, nevertheless," Father Daniel says of the homeless situation, which has been worsening in the past few weeks. But he has nothing more to add.
Instead, he focuses on the talk of the carousel, his lips remaining bowed into a frown. "I don't know anything about the carousel operators, in truth. There've been so many even since I arrived; the city does that hiring, it doesn't take a lot of skill to push a button or turn a key. The creator though, that's a different story. The carousel was put into place in 1911," hmmm.. a year after Gohl's capture, "And the creator was a competitor of Charles Looff. Whittaker, Matthew Whittaker. I believe he was arrested less than half a year after he gifted the city with his creation."
He drums his fingers along the wood grain of the pew as she talks of genealogical maps and christenings, chuckling a little at the question. "I'd have to check the records to see, that was long before my time. But to be perfectly honest with you, Miss Reede, I doubt we have any record even if she was christened here at Saint Mary's. There was some significant flooding in the late sixties, the church lost practically everything. Some of the longer standing families brought back copies of their records, but Baxters..." He trails, considering this. "It isn't a name I hear with any sort of regularity. A couple here and there, through the years, but not with any sort of regularity. They certainly had their place in the very beginning of Gray Harbor, but they are not like the Addingtons, Miss Reede. There are not generations of Baxters here."
"I've never heard of him," Isabella confesses, regarding Matthew Whittaker, or even that Charles Looff had any notable competitors. But she's hardly a Carousel expert and enthusiast. She makes note of the name, quietly, to do some additional digging - as well as the fact that the city hires the operators. The date, though, is also significant, considering the events of the summer.
News of the flood has her wrinkling her brows faintly. "That's too bad," she tells him. "I'm sorry for the Church's loss, father. And...thank you, for the offer to check. Anything at all you could provide, I would very much appreciate it, even if the chance is small. I don't know how old Jill Baxter was when she disappeared, she could have been born after the flooding in the late 60's - she disappeared in 1977. And that's also why I'm so curious, Father...about my mother's family. They started here, there are barely any records left of them, and the later generations don't seem to ever stay, and if they do die, there's no sign either. Not even in the Gardens." She exhales a quiet breath, tapping her fingers absently on her knee, though something about what he says has her turning her attention back to him. "You mentioned that some of the longer standing families brought back copies of their records after the flood, were the Addingtons one of them? My friend, Erin, she was raised Catholic and she goes to church here, regularly, but I'm not sure if the entire family was ever part of the congregation."
"I don't think Matthew Whittaker is of much consequence, in truth. He certainly wasn't a notable competitor. I honestly would not waste your time looking into him," Father Daniel suggests - it's not him being evasive, just honest. But her apologies are met with a shake of his head. "Don't apologize about something that happened before you were even born, dear. I'll let you know if I find anything on this Jill Baxter, but you'll have to give me time." He considers the rest of her words with a sigh. "I wish I had more to give you, Miss Reede. But people have to be buried somewhere. If not here, then Hoquiam or Elma. Maybe even as far as Olympia. Our cemetery is large but it is not vast."
His brows go up once more about the Addingtons - or maybe about Erin specifically. "Any good Addington is a Catholic Addington, Isabella. How often they go to Mass is questionable, but they all go through the church."
His remark about Matthew Whittaker: Child Predator has her nodding once. "Yes, Father." Crime history is not her expertise, after all, but Isabella knows someone who she could ask, at least.
Any good Addington is a Catholic Addington...they all go through the church. She chews faintly on her bottom lip, remembering the picture of Lindon Baxter and the women he seemed intent to burn. "One of my distant cousins told me recently that it seemed strange that no Addington has ever married a Baxter despite the smallness of the town. Could just be because of the scarcity of the latter's presence here," she replies. "Like you said, you've really only seen them come up here and there. I wonder if there was ever such a union that took place? Though..." Her brows furrow. "I suppose the records would only go so far, given the loss, unless the Addingtons offered their records to replace them?"
"Is it strange?" Father Daniel seems to disagree. "Certainly if the town was absolutely brimming with Baxters, then perhaps. But a handful through the years?" He shrugs his shoulders. "The Addingtons tend to marry people like themselves." As in, certainly not carousel operators. "I wouldn't put too much thought to it. A lot of things can seem strange if you think on it too hard." He is starting to get up out of the pew, so Isabella better get any pertinent questions in quickly!
Records? "Ah, I imagine there's a wealth of documentation downstairs. But again," he is kind about this. "I'm not very inclined to let you go digging, not without express permission from the family. Have you gone to the Addington House?" he lifts a brow. "If Addington history is what you want to know, that would be the first place I would consider visiting."
"All fair points, Father Daniel."
It's hard not to smile - the priest was so affable and obliging, despite the very logical points and chastisement over chasing ghosts. With the man rising, Isabella stands up herself, and slowly; her ribs are still aching, after all, though they are getting better by the day. "Thank you very much for taking the time to talk to me, and for the offer of looking into whatever records you do have, I know it's been a long time. Also a long time in that I've not been to Addington House...at least, to actually look at the collection. I'll do that soon, definitely before I leave for England."
There's a glance to the side. "And I'll volunteer once the Church decides to start tackling the other concerns." Perhaps this is why she doesn't go to Church anymore - Catholic Guilt is a powerful force. She extends a hand for a shake. "Thank you so much again, Father."
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