[ THE PRIESRT OF SANTA MARIA ] - ( CHAPTER THIRTY ) - { PT. 4 }

CHAPTER THIRTY  -  PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA

{ PT. 1 } - Marcello's car cruised along the country lane with an anguished Christiano at the wheel. Sixteenth-century farmhouses rose in the distance sculuded behind stone walls bearing cracks and fissures that mirrored the worn face of time. His glazed eyes were mesmerised only by the road markings rolling by in a precise, hypnotic rhythm. Angelica was sound asleep with her head pressed against the door. Flashing past her window was an intoxicating sea of bountiful vineyards bearing swollen grapes ripe for the picking and budding vines that a fine bouquet. Christiano peered at her, catching the image of her hair highlighted with a dazzle of orange flecks from the sitting sun. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away. He was angry about what he had been forced to do, yet when he wanted to do was to save her. He felt himself sinking deeper into the pit of quicksand that had become his life, and he could see no way out that did not involve him abandoning Angelica altogether and fleeing the country. He prayed, silently to himself. Father, after all my sinful deeds I can no longer stand before you the man I was. A priest. Your servant. I no longer know who or what I am.                    _______________________________________________________  { PT.  2 } - I ask for the strength and a message to find my way back to you. Show me if this woman is worthy of carrying the Messiah. Is it true? Could it be true? I find myself without the faith for such miracles, yet we share a vision from the Madonna herself. I am lost. Confused. Unbelieving. Wandering a dark wildering dark wilderness trying to seek the light. I ask for a message, a sign... Tears streaked his face; his throat lumpy and sore. He swallowed, trying to finish his prayer, when Angelica stirred. He quickly dried his face with his hand. Where are we going? she murmured. I have no idea. I'm just driving in the hopes that something will find us. like that? She pointed to a sign suspended across two stone pillars either side of a driveway, leading to a quaint building in the distance. Hotel Tramonto, she said. Christiano shrugged. Why not? He made a sudden swerve and drove through the pillars. Will it be expensive, do you think? Don't worry. I have money.                                                IT WAS NEARING TWILIGHT - when Enzo stirred. His ringing phone sounded like an earthquake erupting in his eardrum. His jaw ached, and his throbbing eye felt like it was being hit with a hammer. He winced, covered his ears and shut his eyes. He sighed with relief when the ringing stopped, and he managed to raise himself with the aid of the nearest chair.                                                                      _______________________________________________________ { PT.  3 } - The room spun, and his vision danced before him. He sat down to find his bearing before searching for the bathroom. Not bad for a priest, he said aloud as he stared into the mirror. He washed his face with cold water, his skin sensitive to the touch, and gently dabbed himself dry with the only towel left behind. He was now as ready as he could be to face Don Primo. He removed his phone from his pocket. There were ten missed calls. He hit the call button feeling a punch to his stomach with every ring. Enzo, where the world have you been? I've been calling you and Ricardo. What the is going on with you both? Enzo gulped. Boss, its Ricardo... He's dead. He's lying here dead. Wait, just slow down. What happened? We...ah...I'm in pain Boss. My head... He knocked me out. He surprised us. Enzo you're not making any sense. Just sit down somewhere, relax and start from the beginning. Enzo sat down, playing his role like a star and ensuring that his stress-releasing breaths were loud enough for Don Primo to hear. When we got to the cabin, it was early morning, just after we spoke. We approached the nearest window, to take a look inside, and the next minute we heard the sound of a shotgun being broken and loaded. We turned and saw the priest pointing the rifle straight at us. He must have been out hunting. Ricardo went for his gun and before he could reach it, the priest fired off two shots to his chest. He went flying back and landed on the ground. I know he was dead. I went crazy. That's when I made my attack. I knew he needed to reload and I wanted to kill that priest with my bare hands. But as I reached him, he hit me in the face with the butt of the rifle.    _______________________________________________________  { PT.  4 } - That's the last thing I remember. I just woke up. They're gone. It's just me and Ricardo's dead body. Enzo, listen to me. I don't want you coming back here with a dead man. I need you to bury the body. What will we tell his wife? She knows the job. I'll compensate her. I'm sorry Don Primo. We screwed up aging. this priest... He's a clever man like he's always a step ahead. like God is helping him. No. We're the ones with the Cardinal's blessing, therefore, God's blessing. Get it done and come home. The receiver went dead, and Enzo breathed a sigh of relief.                                                              ON THE OTHER END. - of the phone, Don Primo sat in his restaurant enveloped in a fog a smoke. About twenty cigarette butts lay discarded in the ashtray. With a deeply pensive look on his face, he brushed some fallen ash from the table-cloth. He narrowed his eyes, reached for his phone and selected a number. The phone was answered in two rings. Paolo, it's been a while. I have a job for you.  ________________________________________________________