THE PRIEST FROM SANTA MARIA - { CHAPTER SIX } - [ PART. 4 ]

{ CHAPTER  SIX }  -  [ PART.  1 ]                                                      

The portrait, which now took pride of place above Christiano's bed, seemed to take on its own persona, like his trapped shadow with its own secrets and longings. He found himself mesmerised by these new eyes; ones that seemed to be telling him a different story from those he saw in the mirror every day. He turned away from them, walked to his yoga mat and took a seat. The unflinching eyes watched as he manoeuvred with deft agility into firefly pose--balancing on his hands and stretching out his legs in front of his body. With resolute strength and an indomitable stare, he held the position as sweat dripped from his rigid frame to form a small pool on the mat. After a few minutes, he dropped his feet and used them to propel upwards, into a standing position. He wiped his face with a towel as he entered the bathroom, where he bathed beneath a shower of arctic cold water. As he dressed in the morning stillness, the wan light projected through the ceiling windows of his basement room, where it seemed to remain, floating above him like a cloud obscuring the sun. As he left the room, he picked up a book that lay in wait on his bedside table, bounded up the stairs, and peered round the door to find Agostina at the kitchen table, sipping espresso.                          ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------{ PART.  2 } - Can I get you some breakfast, Father Abbadelli? Father Abbadelli? No thank you, Agostina. I shall get something at Santa Maria. He nodded in appreciation and left the house. Fifteen minutes later, he strolled into the convent and then quickened his steps to the chapel. As he reached the cloister, he found himself immersed in the sonorous, flute-like chirping of songbirds perched on the cypress tree at the heart of the grounds. Their melodic sounds seemed to transport the listener magically to a tropical paradise. As he walked, he could see Angelica between the gaps of each archway. She sat on a bench, immersed in the sweet melodies--her head positioned reverently to the heavens, her eyes closed, and her face wearing a deeply contented expression. He stopped at the entrance to observe her for a moment before he approached her. His lofty stature cast a shadow over her face. She opened her eyes and her lips spread into a delighted smile. i have a gift for you, he said. Remaining as ever silent, she gestured with her hands and a pleasantly surprised expression, as if to ask, what is it? It's a book that has everything about the history of art. It belongs to me, but I want you to have it. It's a little worn, but only from years of study. She accepted the gift with a look of fascination. As she examined the front cover, she ran her hands along its surface and flicked through the pages.                   ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ { PART.  3 } - She scribbled a message on her board and held it up to him. A meaningful gift that I will treasure. Thank You! He nodded and motioned to leave, but instead, turned back to face her. I'm going to cut some fruit from the orchard. Would you like to join me? With an enthusiastic nod, she rose from the bench. As they walked together, their steps clumsy and uncertain, they glanced coyly at each other every now and then before coming to a stop at a fig tree. Christiano pulled a penknife from his pocket, grasped the antique brass handle and pulled on the blade. Angelica scribbled on her board. An unusual item for a priest to possess. He smiled as he peeled a fig. A gift from my grandfather, whom I loved dearly. I am never without it.He split the fig open and offered it to her. She took it, scrape the insides and licked her lips, her eyes beaming with satiety. He peeled one for himself and consumed it in one mouthful. They watched each other, their eyes communicating the messages they wanted to convey. He cautiously reached his hand to her cheek, and seeing the permission in her eyes, he wiped a tiny remnant of fig from her skin. Father Abbadelli! They turned to see the Abbess, her brows contracted to form a scowl. She marched towards them. Angelica, we have an appointment remember? Go and wait in my office. Angelica did as instructed and Christiano was left with the glowering Abbess. He wiped the blade of his penknife with a handkerchief, folded it back to its closed position, and placed it in his pocket.                                                                                                   ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART.  4 } - Father Abbadelli, I do not have the time to discuss this with you now, but I wish to see you in my office later. This is a serious matter, but for now I am the only one privy to what is transpiring. Find the time to see me when I return. Without waiting for a reply, she stormed off, leaving him with a feeling of dread coiling its way round his guts as an unexpected realisation snaked its way to his consciousness.                                                                       BACK AT THE CHAPEL, Father Cavallo prepared for morning mass. As he opened the Bible, ready to place it onto the lectern, an envelope fell out, landing on the altar table. He picked it up and examined the writing on the front. To Father Abbadelli. As he inspected the handwriting, a drop of water landed on the letter A, causing the ink to disperse and the trickle of a little blue tear to his thumb. Instinctively, he looked up at the ceiling and felt a drop on his hand. Read-justing his focus, he moved directly beneath the Virgin Mary's face. To his astonishment, her eyes blinked, her mouth moved, and a sound like the cry of a gentle bird, as rapturous as a children's choir, emanated from her lips. There he remained, rooted to the spot as the teardrops rained from her benevolent eyes onto his face. Clutching at his heart, he took short sharp breaths and collapsed on the ground.                                                                                       -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------