Free The Digger's Game by George V. Higgins

expect to get the chance to look, though,” Paul said.
    “Well,” the Digger said, “there was Ma. Now Ma, she did what she was supposed to do, and she laid off the other stuff, and she put up with Pa and me. So, and that other thing, she had a son a priest, which is the free ticket, the way I get it. So, it’s all true, Ma is okay. Now me, I figure the one chance I got is to kick off when it’s raining, no golf, a weekday, say in April, no ball game, middle of the afternoon so you already had your nap. I see it coming, I’m gonna say, ‘Aggie, gimme the chaplain, baby. Call over to Saint Hilary’s, Father Finn ain’t in, try the Lutherans and then the Jews. Worst comes to worst, the black fella down in the store Columbus Ave, under the el.’ Because that’s the only chance I got, somebody comes by when I’m too weak to get in any more trouble and wipes it all off, says, ‘Let him in, God. He made it.’ Ma, Ma could’ve died in a closet when the Broons’re playing Canadiens, there isn’t a priest for miles. She still would’ve been all right. Maureen’s inna convent. She goes and they say, ‘Let her in, works for the Boss.’ Kathy? Kathy married the Corola wine company. Either she goes straight to hell for marrying the wop or she goes straight to heaven for living with the wop, I forget which Ma finally decided. Either way, nothing she can do about it. You got the retirement plan. Me, I gotta be realistic. I go at a time when I can’t get the house call, I’m sunk.”
    “Does it bother you?” Paul said.
    “Yeah,” the Digger said, “a little.”
    “Enough to do something about it?” Paul said.
    “No,” the Digger said, “not enough for that. I figure, I make it, great. They gotta, there’s gotta be some reason, they call it Paradise. I don’t make it, it’s there to behad, well, too bad, at least I’ll see all my friends in the other place. And if there isn’t no place, either kind, well, at least I didn’t waste no time worrying about it.”
    “I think that’s a healthy attitude,” Paul said.
    “Yeah,” the Digger said.
    “I do,” Paul said. “It’s not that far off from mine. The way I look at it, I’m telling people what I really believe to be true. But maybe it isn’t true. All right. If they do what I tell them, and it’s true, I’ve done a lot of good. That makes me feel good. If they do what I tell them, and it isn’t true, what’ve they lost? There’s nothing wrong with the model of Christian life, even if there isn’t any jackpot at the end. It’s an orderly, dignified way to live, and that’s not a bad thing.”
    “I don’t think that’s what Ma thought you were up to when you got ordained, there,” the Digger said.
    “I’m sure it wasn’t,” Paul said. “Ma was a good, simple woman. I don’t think it’s what I was up to, when I got ordained.”
    “That’s nice talk,” the Digger said.
    “I didn’t mean anything,” Paul said. “I mean it: she knew what she believed in, and she believed in it. I’d give a great deal today for a church full of people like her. I offer Mass at least twice a week, for the repose of her soul.”
    “Now there’s something I could use,” the Digger said, “a little of that repose of the soul. That’d be just the item.”
    “Well,” Paul said, “you had yourself a little excursion a week or so ago. Things can’t be that bad.”
    “How’d you hear that?” the Digger said.
    “I ran into Aggie,” Paul said. “I had some business at the Chancery and then I took the trolley intown andwent to see Father Francis at the Shrine, take him to lunch. Aggie was coming out when I went in. She had Patricia with her. Those are beautiful children, my nephews and niece, even if I am their uncle.”
    “I wonder what the hell she was doing in there,” the Digger said. “She didn’t tell me she was intown.”
    “You were away,” Paul said. “I suppose she figured, well, the cat’s away. Here’s my chance to get