Chapter 6.
Business
As the second
week of Advent passed, Fratelli's injured toe felt less painful though it
displayed an odd range of colors. He began putting in action plans for his
party. Wednesday morning, he began writing letters to his family, inviting them
all to his house. Usually, they feasted at Francine’s house on Christmas Day
even though there was more room in Fratelli’s villa. His aunt always had been
an exceptional hostess. Also, they would be meeting later in the day. All this
information, he included in each letter.
After writing
these letters, Fratelli forced himself to finish overlooking the theological
book which sat on his desk, gathering grey dust. He blew the dust off it and
continued reading as afternoon sun glowed through the windows. At a quarter
after two, he finally finished the book, scribbled a few notes then went in his
chapel to pray.
Kneeling before
the linen covered, candle-lit altar, staring at the ruby-red sanctuary lamp,
which glowed above, and golden tabernacle which housed the Body of Christ,
Fratelli mouthed a silent prayer. Lastly, he concluded aloud,
“Lord, please guide me in my daily actions…as
you know, this book, which awaits my approval, has been driving me mad. Yet,
there is nothing in it contradictory to your Gospel. Direct my heart and my words
also for you alone are righteous and the source of all righteousness…”
He stood up,
bowed before the sacred tabernacle and departed. Donning his draping, red
cloak, he grabbed his wide-brimmed hat and walking stick and walked outside.
Despite dry weather, the garden was fully green. Roses bowed their heads slowly
telling the season’s passage. Beneath their withered leaves waited swollen, new
buds. Paolo indeed did a nice job keeping the plants healthy and vibrant.
Feeling a light wind stir his brown
locks, Fratelli decided it was best to stroll and make the necessary
appointments for his party before the air grew too cold. First, he visited a
florist down the street. Entering into the small, roadside shop for a first
time ever, since all the flowers he needed came from his garden, Fratelli
looked about at bouquets of lilies, various fragrant grasses and tiny, white
flowers. Reaching out one hand, he touched a flower and sniffed its sweet
fragrance. Suddenly, he jumped hearing a voice,
“Hello there!”
Fratelli gazed
down as delicate petals crumbled in his startled fingers swishing to the floor.
“I…I’m sorry,”
he stuttered.
The man
approaching had sparse, grey hair tied back, a white frock and dirt beneath his
fingernails. He saw the crumbled flower but said nothing. Arching his bushy
brows, he replied, “Your Eminence, it is a surprise to see you here.”
“Yes, I know.”
An awkward pause
ensued. Finally, Fratelli asked, “Can you acquire for me red poinsettias? Six
dozen?”
“That is a
lot…you may have to order them from a couple other stores. But don’t bother
yourself, I will contact them.”
“That is fine.
Thank you.”
Next, Fratelli
went to Luigi, telling him he would need a whole lamb and a whole calf. He
spoke with several cooks from the nearby “Ristorante” and then tiredly headed
home. Reaching his doorway, he checked Francine’s notes and realized he’d
forgotten to inquire at the opera house, which had closed by now, about the
musicians. I can’t do everything in one day, he mused; it will have to wait.
Soon as he came in the door, he faced Father Rodrigo who nervously licked his
lips and said, “Your Eminence, why didn’t you have me make all these
appointments? I’m your secretary.”
“I couldn’t find
you Rodrigo…”
“That’s because
I was fetching your mail…you couldn’t wait?”
“I was too
excited,” Fratelli replied then scowled, adding, “Why are you scolding me? Be
quiet and obedient.”
Huffing, Rodrigo
pursed his mouth and withdrew. He wondered how Dina got away with being bold…
At dinner, two
assistant priests and a deacon joined them. Fratelli happily shared his table,
inviting Dina to sit with them.
“You should take
a rest,” he explained.
Everything was
well until Fratelli and one of the young priests reached simultaneously towards
the last two olives. They froze their arms and stared at eachother. Tension
engulfed the room.
“Ummm, Your
Eminence,” the priest murmured timidly, “You can have them.”
Fratelli then
snapped his arm back.
“What am I thinking?” he asked aloud,
“The first shall be the last. They’re yours Father Adreo.”
Hesitantly, lest
the cardinal should change his mind and get upset, Adreo scooped up the last
two olives and ate them quickly- as if getting away with something.
It happened that
Francine was just as excited as Fratelli about the Christmas feast. Early next
morning, she met him in the hallway and inquired about his appointments.
“I ordered the
flowers,” he said sleepily.
“…and the ones I
suggested?”
“Yes Francine.”
“Oh, I spoke
with my friend who is a great chef and he offered to run the kitchen on
Christmas. Isn’t that wonderful!”
“Yes, that is
fine but can I meet him?”
“Of course
Angelo…I mean, Your Eminence.”
Smiling,
Fratelli said goodbye and proceeded to his office. While sun poured in and
warmed the entire room, Fratelli drew up a note and penned his approval,
granting the imprimatur for that theological book. Then, he blew dust off it
once more and gladly gave it to Rodrigo. Sitting back, he wiped sweat from his
forehead and imagined the glee and wonder that waited on Christmas Day. Thirst
slowly caked his mouth and he unseated going towards the kitchen. Dina blocked
his way saying, “No, Your Eminence, sit down, I will get you water.”
“How did you
know I wanted water?”
She grinned
impatiently and retorted, “I have been working here for three years and I just
know. Now go.”
He sat in the
parlor when she came bearing two tall glasses of water. Confused Fratelli eyed
them.
“Why are there
two?”
Dina laughed,
sitting across the room, resting and closing her eyes against flooding
sunlight. She then eyed him back and answered:
“It will be very warm in the cathedral
and I supposed you might want something cool to drink while overhearing
confessions this evening.”
Fratelli felt stricken by
her thoughtfulness. He also felt awkward showing any endearment towards her.
Now standing, facing the window, he spoke,
“Why thank you very much, bless you.”
Chapter
7.
A Storm
Cold winds
rushed over the city of Lucca, beating stucco buildings and window panes. Rain
began to fall, turning skies grey. Stormy torrents howled while Fratelli
glanced out the window. He worried for Dina had left earlier that day and
hadn’t yet returned. He was also supposed to meet with the head chef for his
Christmas party. Seeing the inclement weather, he supposed this meeting wasn’t
going to happen. However, he felt lingering concern about Dina.
Finally, unable
to wait anymore, Fratelli donned shoes, wrapped his supple, scarlet cloak
around himself and trudged through the yard squinting against cold winds. He
removed his red cap and shoved it in a pocket, lest it blow away, and walked
onto the street. Reaching an intersection, Fratelli paused, letting a carriage
bustle by. The horse in front snorted lightly visible breath.
Where is Dina?
Coming around a corner, Fratelli suddenly saw Dina’s cloaked figure kneeling
and speaking with a young, golden-haired boy: Gianni. The cardinal rushed
forth, his red cape billowing behind him and exclaimed, “Dina, I’m sure glad to
find you. The storm is getting worse.”
Immediately,
Gianni looked up, eyed bright and said, “That is the man who was mean to me!”
Dina now stared
at Fratelli. Her arms folded as he stuttered, “No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes he was”
Gianni argued, “He chased me out of the church…”
“Your Eminence!”
“No…no, he stole
a candlestick,” Fratelli asserted.
“I can’t believe
you would accuse this innocent little boy of such a thing!”
Fratelli blushed
horribly and groaned. Teeth clenched together, he stood silent. The old woman’s
words came to mind: a nasty street-urchin, indeed. At Dina’s next words, he
stirred, jaw hanging ajar:
“Come home with
us and we’ll get you a warm meal.”
The cardinal
opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. Dina already took Gianni’s
small hand, a pitying look on her face, leading him down the street. Huffing
and rather upset, Cardinal Fratelli tried to eat supper in the parlor but Dina
nicely asked he join her and Gianni in the dining room. Hiding his frustration, wearing a pleasant
smile, Fratelli entered the dining room and blessed the food. He sat down then
quietly helped himself to fish, olives and bruschetta, a type of toast covered
with roasted tomatoes. Gianni glared from across the table and he ignored the
boy, paying more attention to the winds and rain that beat upon the windows.
Dina spoke,
“What is your name, dear boy?”
“I’m Gianni.”
“No last name?”
“I dunno…”
“Would you like
a pastry for desert?” Dina then asked.
He smiled back
and ever-politely replied, “Yes ma’am.”
When Dina
unseated, taking their dirty plates and going into the kitchen, Fratelli leaned
over whispering to Gianni, “You may believe you have tricked her by acting so
sweet and innocuous, but I know what you did…”
The boy
grinned, looking downwards in a faint display of shame.
“I am sorry,” he
said.
“What did you
say?”
Reluctantly, the
boy repeated, “I am sorry.”
“Well…” Fratelli
said sitting back, expressing delight but unsure if this show of remorse was
genuine.
Returning, Dina,
set a pastry before Gianni, its crust golden brown as the boy’s hair.
“Where is mine?”
Fratelli inquired.
“That one was
the last one, Your Eminence,” she responded, “And you said it yourself that
guests should always have the last of what’s left.”
Gianni
suppressed a laugh. As the cardinal stated hotly at him, he once again adopted
that shameful, apologetic face. Then he readily gobbled up the dessert. A clap
of thunder instantly startled them all, Fratelli almost jumping from his chair.
Gianni excitedly ran to the window, pressing his face against the glass as rain
pummeled down.
“What a horrid
storm!” Dina exclaimed, “Your Eminence, can you let the boy stay here…he has no
home, nowhere to go.”
Charity always
came first for clergymen- even grumpy, irate clergymen; it was unbefitting to
say no. How could he?
All fell quiet
in the house. The only sounds heard were from winds and rain outside. With a
lamp in his hand, Fratelli snuck downstairs and into his chapel. There, in
relative darkness, he lit four candles that had blown out and knelt, basking
prayerfully in their yellow glow.
“What are you
doing?” a voice interrupted.
Close beside
him, Gianni stood; his fair face angelic in candlelight. However, he wasn’t
fooling the cardinal.
“I am praying,”
he answered flatly, “Well, I was praying.”
“Oh,” Gianni
said and still stood there, lips pursed, hovering at his side.
Fratelli ignored
him and resumed praying. Facing the altar, he uttered, “Pater noster qui es in caelis (1).”
“What are you saying?”
Irritated, Fratelli kept speaking in fluent
Latin.
Gianni now shouted:
“Hello!”
“What do you want!” Fratelli
shouted back.
Startled, the boy laughed a
bit then scurried off.
Now alone, Fratelli sighed, “Lord Christ, is this another test? Grant me
patience and mercy, O God, should I fail, for I am near losing my temper with
this lad. I don’t want to be angry… I am not pleasant when I’m angry. Keep me
from sin.”
Next morning, dawn light flooded
brightly through the villa’s tall windows. Cardinal Fratelli reluctantly came
for breakfast. He feared Gianni would still be there, eating his food and
behaving in his sly, obnoxious manner- and those fears were confirmed. Gianni
sat at the dining room table, kicking his feet and munching on a handful of
figs. He smiled at Fratelli who yawned, reaching for the tea.
“Can I have some?” Gianni suddenly
asked.
“No, you seem awake enough,” Fratelli
grumbled.
“Your Eminence, be nice,” Dina
remarked coming from behind with a cup of milk, “Here, Gianni, you can have
this.”
Sighing
softly, Fratelli leaned back, eyeing drops of rain which fell from tree
branches, the clean, vivid green grass and a lone sparrow flying upward. Sun
fell warmly upon the storm-wearied earth. Anxious, he took his teacup outside
on the veranda and sat, thinking quietly to himself. Yes, he acknowledged his
robes were getting wet from the soaked, wicker chair and residual mists, yes,
he may be shivering slightly- but he felt finally at peace.
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