2064.03; Part Two, The Saga at Cobble Hill
Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2025 4:27 pm
(Note: The Saga at Cobble Hill is multi-part series devoted to the hiring of seven retired BBA players as coaches within the Robins organization -- Bruno Bugbie in the 2063 offseason and Daniel Pepper, Dick "Boy Reporter" Walton, Robert Chenoweth, Robin Cooper, Francisco Franco, and Roberto Viramontas in the 2064 offseason)
PART TWO
(it may help to read 2063.05: St. Agnes)
The bell tower of St. Agnes Catholic Church in the Cobble Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn provided a near unobstructed view of Governor’s Island nestled within the Hudson River. Behind the island, the crumbling and torchless arm of Lady Liberty could still be seen watching over the Upper Bay. High up in the bell tower and on a slight ledge just below the bell itself, a little girl, hugging a crudely made stuffed doll close to her chest, laid dead quiet during the Sunday mass.
The bells would ring soon, the girl knew. And it would finally be time.
She’d spent the last year hiding and searching within the walls of the church. It was surprisingly easy for a small girl like herself to go unnoticed and live almost comfortably. There was always food and drinks available in the kitchen connected to the hospitality hall; The various architects of the church and its subsequent extensions and remodels had crammed plenty of bathrooms throughout; and, the small library used by the priests and parishioners provided ample books and magazines to pass the time.
A two-man maintenance crew employed by the church were her only worries most days, but even they gave the girl little trouble in her hiding. The younger of the two never heard anything due to wearing earbuds blasting music all day, and the older one, the girl was sure, was simply hard of hearing. But, iIn the end, no one expected a little girl to be living in the church, so why would anyone look?
“Hurry up, we need to get to Vinny’s so we can get a table,” a mother said as she prodded her two kids and husband out the side door below the bell tower. “I’m not waiting, so we’ll just eat at home if they don’t have one open.”
The little girl enjoyed watching these types of families – the ones quick to sneak out the back of the church right after communion. In a way, she could empathize with them. There’s a limit to how much time a person can spend within the buttressed walls and arched ceilings of a church. A person can only sit with their guilts and regrets for so long while organ music or singing drones into them from all directions or the mechanical sermons of a priest begin to gnaw at the recesses of one’s doubts.
The little girl had hit her limit nearly a week into her hiding, but there were more important things to consider than her own sanity, she knew.
“Come on, come on.” The girl heard as several more people slunk out of the church. “We gotta beat traffic.”
She readied herself, clutching her doll harder and, with her other hand, reaching down and feeling the note she’d shoved down one sock. It had taken her the entire year to find the information she was after. The pocket of a deacon’s robe in a small wardrobe closet was not a place she’d thought to look initially, so she wasn’t about to lose it now.
She giggled to herself as she realized she’d finally hear the church bells and be excited rather than startled.
She pulled out the note to read it one last time, hurriedly trying to read fast enough to beat the bells’ ringing. It contained only a list of names, but their importance was of no worry to her. She was only doing as she was instructed.
The note read:
Bugbie / Pepper / Walton / Chenoweth / Cooper / Franco / Viramontas*
Why Viramontas was starred and written in a handwriting differing from the others continued to puzzle her, but she quickly dropped it from her mind and shoved the note back in her sock just as the bells began to ring.
GONG
GONG
GONG
GONG
GONG
PART TWO
(it may help to read 2063.05: St. Agnes)
The bells would ring soon, the girl knew. And it would finally be time.
She’d spent the last year hiding and searching within the walls of the church. It was surprisingly easy for a small girl like herself to go unnoticed and live almost comfortably. There was always food and drinks available in the kitchen connected to the hospitality hall; The various architects of the church and its subsequent extensions and remodels had crammed plenty of bathrooms throughout; and, the small library used by the priests and parishioners provided ample books and magazines to pass the time.
A two-man maintenance crew employed by the church were her only worries most days, but even they gave the girl little trouble in her hiding. The younger of the two never heard anything due to wearing earbuds blasting music all day, and the older one, the girl was sure, was simply hard of hearing. But, iIn the end, no one expected a little girl to be living in the church, so why would anyone look?
“Hurry up, we need to get to Vinny’s so we can get a table,” a mother said as she prodded her two kids and husband out the side door below the bell tower. “I’m not waiting, so we’ll just eat at home if they don’t have one open.”
The little girl enjoyed watching these types of families – the ones quick to sneak out the back of the church right after communion. In a way, she could empathize with them. There’s a limit to how much time a person can spend within the buttressed walls and arched ceilings of a church. A person can only sit with their guilts and regrets for so long while organ music or singing drones into them from all directions or the mechanical sermons of a priest begin to gnaw at the recesses of one’s doubts.
The little girl had hit her limit nearly a week into her hiding, but there were more important things to consider than her own sanity, she knew.
“Come on, come on.” The girl heard as several more people slunk out of the church. “We gotta beat traffic.”
She readied herself, clutching her doll harder and, with her other hand, reaching down and feeling the note she’d shoved down one sock. It had taken her the entire year to find the information she was after. The pocket of a deacon’s robe in a small wardrobe closet was not a place she’d thought to look initially, so she wasn’t about to lose it now.
She giggled to herself as she realized she’d finally hear the church bells and be excited rather than startled.
She pulled out the note to read it one last time, hurriedly trying to read fast enough to beat the bells’ ringing. It contained only a list of names, but their importance was of no worry to her. She was only doing as she was instructed.
The note read:
Bugbie / Pepper / Walton / Chenoweth / Cooper / Franco / Viramontas*
Why Viramontas was starred and written in a handwriting differing from the others continued to puzzle her, but she quickly dropped it from her mind and shoved the note back in her sock just as the bells began to ring.
GONG
GONG
GONG
GONG
GONG
