CHAPTER. THREE - THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA - [ PART. 10 ]

The next morning, Christiano entered the narthex of the chapel with a bible in his hands. As he reached the nave, he slipped, skidded on his rear a fair way across the floor and collided with a bucket. A cascade of water splashed over his face and chest. He gasped as he wiped his eyes and opened them to gaze into large, oval eyes that gleamed like black pearls, a small pert nose and full pronounced lips. The woman with the familiar grey hooded cloak peered over him with a mop in her hand. The Virgin sculpture in the background seemed almost to be standing watch over her. He lay motionless and dazed, gazing up at a flawless face that  looked down at him like a frightened deer staring into the headlight of an oncoming vehicle. She grabbed the bucket and sped out of the chapel, leaving him breathless.                                                                                              ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------   { PART. 2 } - The rest of the day drifted by in a haze. Christiano was unable to erase those penetrating eyes which seemed to have found their way to his soul. That evening at dinner, he pushed some food to the side of his dinner plate. You don't like seafood, Father? asked Agostina in surprise. To be honest, it's not my favourite. I'm that rare person, a fisherman's son who doesn't like fish. I say we should leave the poor creatures in the ocean where they belong. Oh Father, you should have told me. Can I get you something else? No. Thank you. To be honest, I'm not very hungry this evening. And what did your father think when he discovered your aversion to his livelihood? asked Marcello. He was very disappointed, but the local priest, Father Guido, a mentor of mine, spoke to him. I soon discovered he was very proud of my decision to become a priest. Besides, I have an older brother who has inherited the family business. So at least one of you became a fisherman. He smiled... What brought you to Santa Maria, Marcello? Oh, it's a long story. I started out as a locksmith. The abbey has always been a place of mystery and intrigue since childhood. One day, tasked with replacing the locks to the convent shop, I met Father Cavallo, and it was as if we were old friends catching up. I invited him to dinner, and we became great friends. After the death of Nicolas, I didn't have the strength to work.He helped us through it. He grasped hold of Agostina's hand.                   ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 3 } -Unable to face my job I ran into debt. The position of Janitor at Santa Maria became available, and he offered me the job. I took it, hoping that a holy place would help me find solace. On my first day as I walked into the abbey, a feeling of peace washed over me. That was twenty years age. A story full of both wonder and sadness, said Christiano. Father, said Agostina, he went into that place a broken man who hardly spoke a word to me and returned the very first day with a bunch of flowers, showing me with kisses. Santa Maria is a very special place. It's a pity Philippe did not have the same fortune, said Christiano. Oh we tried to introduce him to Father Cavallo, but we had each other, he had no one. His burden was three-fold. They sat in quiet contemplation for a moment before Christiano broke the silence.                                                                 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------   { PART. 4 } - Will you both be attending mass tomorrow? Oh yes, we look forward to it, said Agostina, rising from her seat and collecting the dishes. Will you be conducting the service? No, I will leave the pleasure to Father Cavallo. Despite my new position, I feel it is still his church. Until he has left, that is.                                         THE NEXT MORNING, CHRISTIANO: helped Father Franco prepare for mass. How are you enjoying Santa Maria? asked the old priest. An enchanting, tranquil place, but a momentary pause in my life. He placed the chalice on the altar and the bible onto the lectern. Well, don't be so sure, she may grow on you yet. Our Lady is a very persuasive woman... Ah, our sisters arrive. As Father Cavallo conducted mass, Christiano took a moment to survey the congregation. Marcello and Agostina were listening to the liturgy in devoted musing, but the Abbess, he noticed, had a pained and anguished expression as if her attention was on another matter. He stared at her for a while, wondering what it might be.                         ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 5 } - Then, several rows behind her, as though a tinted figure in a monochrome photography, he caught sight of the mysterious young woman. Her grey hood fell over her shoulders to reveal an angelic face and long hair the color of onyx and as straight as a poker. Her skin was the color of shimmering bronze highlighted by a single golden hue emanating from the stained glass directly above her. It was as if tiny particles of glitter were ingrained into her flesh. She sat in quiet devotion at the back of the chapel, her eyes transfixed on Father Cavallo. As Christiano stared, she looked up to meet his gaze. He quickly looked away, his face turning crimson. From that moment, he kept his eyes firmly on Father Cavallo and attended to his duties until the very end, when he dared to look her way once more. The space where she had stood was empty. Christiano felt a strange sensation of loss. Gradually, the nuns dispersed to attend to their chores and Christiano approached Father Cavallo. A wonderful service, Father. One I'm certain I cannot match. Oh brother, you are being humble.                                           ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 6 } - Monsignor Luka speaks very highly of you. He tells me that you were his best student. christiano's face flushed. Well I have always had an aptitude for study. I enjoy it very much. So, you have delayed your doctorate for twelve months? ... I do hope this diversion isn't causing anxiety. A little at first, but God has chosen me for this task, and he has his reasons. I am but his humble servant, after all. Indeed. As we are all... Would you like to take confession this afternoon? I would like that very much.                                       IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON, and Chrristiano was down to his last confession of the day. He heard the fumbling sounds of someone settling into the seat and slid the grille open. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one year since my last confession, said the female voice behind the confessional blind. Sister, why have you abstained from confession for so long? I am but an old nun, Father, and now, after all these years, I find myself stricken with grief and envy. What is the cause of this anxiety Sister? The youth around me, Father. I have a burning desire to tell my young sisters to flee the convent and seek a normal life. To marry and have children. Do you regret becoming a nun? If I am honest, after all these years I am suddenly full of grief and longing for a child I will never have.         ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 7 } - Why did you become a nun? my parents insisted, and I was young and pleasing. Now, I have the tongue to speak my mind, but it's too late. Sister, while I'm sorry to hear this, I feel it's important that you make the distinction that what happened to you did not necessarily happen to your sisters. They chose this calling of their own volition. Indeed, Father. My apologies. I am blinded by my own bitterness. Are you from these parts? No, Father. I am not. I had my eye on a young man back in my hometown, and he was keen on me. I never saw him again. I have never passed the convent gates since my arrival more than forty-five years ago. Sometimes I cry at night, feeling the emptiness in my womb... Do forgive me for speaking so bluntly, Father. I would never say such things to Father Cavallo for fear that he may recognise my voice. Do not worry yourself, Sister. I feel for your loss. I too have taken a vow of celibacy and will never father a child. It is the choice we make.          ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 8 } - While I understand that it was forced upon you, do you truly feel that your years of service to God have been wasted? So much so that sometimes I feel to take my own life. Shock coursed through his body. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a scream. He ran from the booth, out of the chapel and into the hallway where a group of nuns surrounded someone who was lying unconscious on the ground. He approached them--and saw it was the grey-hooded woman who lay on the floor. The Abbess pushed through the small crowd and knelt beside her, waving smelling salts under her nostrils. Angelica, can you hear me? she said. Angelica opened her eyes, and the Abbess tilted her head forward to receive water. Christiano, appalled and concerned, watched as she was gently raised and helped away by the Abbess and Sister Celeste. That's all there is to see here! said the Abbess. Her voice was sharp, and as she left she looked at Christiano for a second, it seemed to him almost suspiciously. He stood, staring as they disappeared down the dark corridor and then turned to see that all the nuns were gone and the hallway was empty. He walked back to the chapel and noticed that the door to the confessional booth was ajar and the chapel was empty. A dark shadow descended upon the nave as the sun went down. An eerie silence hovered in its place. Christiano suddenly felt uneasy and narrowed his eyes, glancing from side to side as if sensing a presence. Sister, are you still here? He looked in the confessional booth to find an empty chamber. A whimper sounded by way of reply. Sister! He flicked the light switch.               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 9 } - The bulbs emitted a warming, flame-like light that lined the entire stretch of the nave. He searched around as the cry continued, looking under the pews and pausing in the transept crossing. As he stood there, he felt droplets of water fall on his head. He looked up at the Virgin sculpture towering above him. Another drop landed beneath his left eye. He picked up a flickering candle and grabbed a nearby chair, raising himself higher, for a closer look. He held the candle as far up to her face as he could reach. It appeared the tears were flowing from the Virgin's eyes. He rubbed his own eyes in disbelief and lifted the candle towards the ceiling, searching for a leak. The wan light revealed nothing. On tiptoe, he cautiously stretched his hand up, feeling the area beneath her eyes with the tips of his fingers. The stone felt wet beneath his touch. As suddenly as it had begun, the whimpering stopped. The chair beneath him wobbled, one of the legs snapped, and it toppled over. Christiano crashed to the ground.                                                                                            --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------