Hidden Passion, page 15
The Italians knew how to party. He liked that and was often surprised with how they could be as analytical and detached as he, yet also celebrate the more passionate aspects of life. He took another sip and squinted at the horizon, processing that question.
David chuckled. His Italian friends wouldn’t analyze it. They simply enjoyed life in every way; the work, the food, and the drama of relationships. He raised his glass as a toast to Italy. La dolce vita. Loving the food, the beautiful scenery, the cars, and the people was understandable, but drama was not for him, especially when it involved women. It never seemed logical.
He appreciated the contributions of his female colleagues and thought of them as wonderful mysteries. But their perspectives and behavior were so different from his. They understood one another, and that highlighted for him his inability to grasp their nuanced ways. Again, he raised his glass and offered a toast to the wonder of women, then returned to his table.
Sitting in peace on this sunny rooftop in Rome and enjoying a light breakfast, the buzz of subatomic particles and the drama of relationships faded out of his consciousness. Simplicity and quiet comfort permitted a welcome peace in David’s mind as he tasted fresh sliced fruit, deli meats, croissants, and coffee.
But that peace was all too sweet as a fearful emptiness grew within him. He thought of how his grandfather, Professor Matthew Justus, had asked for his help and how he was on the next train from Cern to Rome. His grandfather meant so much to him and the sickening reality began to sink in. The old man was seriously ill and possibly dying. And, where was he? In Rome, enjoying coffee and pastries in the sunshine. He had to honor the request from his grandfather to help the American woman rather than return to London. But he couldn’t help feeling guilty. Despite the sun’s warmth on his face, he would much rather be at home in London, that great city, where he could be with Matthew, surrounded by friends and family.
A year earlier, after Matthew met Rennie and her friend Angie, David learned through his grandfather of the discoveries they had made and how the women had left Iowa and gone to London to inquire about the death of David’s great grandfather, Professor Matthias Justus. Matthew hadn’t even been born when his father was brutally murdered. Matthew’s mother Priscilla never spoke of the astounding discovery of the letters. She didn’t know of it, and they could have been lost forever. David’s thoughts formed a three-dimensional model of those involved with their relationships and titles as if he was portraying a system of sub-atomic particles and related forces. Then he realized it was all unimportant compared with the well-being of his grandfather.
David sipped his coffee and noticed the varied textures and tones of brown in his cup. Like the swirl of distant galaxies, the relationships of family and friends and events floated back into his mind. But, the condition of his grandfather bubbled bitter concern within him. David wouldn’t acknowledge it, but emotions not logic prompted a call to London.
“Hello, yes I’m calling for my grandfather, Matthew … I’m David, David Justus. I’m concerned about how he’s doing, and I’d appreciate speaking with him … Why can I not speak with him? … I’m sorry miss, what is your name? … Miss Strathmore, I’m calling from Rome and I’ve not heard from my grandfather for more than a day. He’s been in touch with me regarding an issue here. You are his nurse? … Why does he have medical staff in his home? Excuse me, are any of my family members there? … Miss? … No, please do not hang up. What is urgent? Miss?”
London seemed to be on another planet. How could she hang up? The numb ache of fear locked him in its cocoon. The brilliant logic that thrust him forward into new worlds of theoretical physics were overcome by a fierce, emotional threat. This was not familiar territory. Is the health of Matthew, his beloved grandfather at a critical stage? He needed data!
“Excuse me, may I take this chair?”
Without looking up, David motioned his approval.
The man sat down at his table instead of taking the chair.
“Hi David. My name is Michael. I know who you are. I also know your grandfather. He’s a brilliant and good man. Long ago, I met him when he tried to get approval from the Turkish government to excavate at the site of ancient Antioch.”
“Sorry, who are you? Wait, how do you know my name?”
This intruder violated every framework of David’s sense of propriety and logic. He had no experience in dealing with such impertinence. He struggled to grasp how to challenge the stranger. Yet, he says he knows Matthew.
“Michael is the name, and I’m a friend of Rennie Haran. I think you may meet her soon. I understand you’re concerned about your grandfather, but would you come with me right now? I’d like to discuss with you some background data you may need when you meet with Miss Haran.”
Michael’s composure exuded calm and nearly swept away David’s fears for Matthew.
“Michael, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay on top of a family matter. I don’t need to wander about. If we have something to discuss, let’s do it here.”
“David, there’s nothing for you to do right now except stay on top of this matter with Miss Haran. I’m sorry I must be blunt. It’s simply a fact, and I believe you prefer facts.”
“Exactly who are you, Michael? What is it you want?” David was getting irritated now.
“I can answer your questions, but not here. This is noisy, busy. There’s a pleasant boulevard, Viale degli Ammiragli, close by where we can speak privately. Let’s walk there. It’s not far and close to the Vatican, so it’s easy for you to connect with Rennie when you need to.” Michael pushed his chair back as if he would stand. “May we go?”
David stared at his watch as if it would offer advice. “Okay, but I must follow up on the status of my grandfather.”
The close quarters in the small elevator shut off conversation, especially for those naturally shy to speak like David. His thoughts remained with his grandfather and the all too disconcerting call he just made.
David followed the bold stranger as he dashed across the street and down the sidewalk for a short distance. The up-down wail of emergency sirens burst through the canyons of buildings and sparked fresh anxieties in David. Tragedy was in the air.
When they stopped, David politely demanded, “Michael, I’m sorry I didn’t catch your last name. How is it you know Miss Haran and what’s your purpose with me?”
“She and I have been through a couple of tough situations in the recent past. She’s a good spirit. Right now, she’s under some pressure with the exhibition and background issues. She’ll need your help.”
“Precisely. That’s why I’m here.”
Turning onto their target street, Michael slowed his gait to a stroll.
“This is better. David, are you acquainted with Corinth? I believe you and Matthew did some exploring in Greece.”
“Yes, but for Corinth, only a brief visit. We spent some time on Mount Parnassus. My grandfather was curious about the oracle at Delphi. That period of history in the few hundred years preceding the Christian era and the few hundred years of the Christian era were of great interest to him. Why do you ask about Corinth?”
“Corinth was the location of one of the earliest churches and work of the apostle Paul. It was quite a place in history, economics, and in religion.”
“Of course, it was. What’s your point, Michael?”
“I thought that if you and Rennie have a chance to get away, she might appreciate the place. She’s never traveled in Europe. Turkey is another place that Americans rarely go to. It’s also rich with history and cultures.”
David’s back stiffened with resolute British propriety.
With clipped and precise formality, he demanded, “I don’t know what you are insinuating my relationship with Miss Haran may be, but I can assure you we are not holidaying together. Are you some type of travel agent? I fail to see your point here! My grandfather had a sense of urgency for someone to assist Miss Haran and he asked me to help. I’m not sure of the details, but I believe she was under threat. I don’t plan on touring with her. Now if you don’t mind, I need to try to reach him again. Excuse me.”
David jogged across the street and stood near a tree in the wide, grassy median. He dialed the London number again and asked for information from another useless source at the other end of the line. Family numbers weren’t responding. Calls to a few friends went straight to voicemail.
“Ridiculous!” he swore, using one of his worst epithets. He marched back to Michael with teeth clenched.
“Who the hell are you? What’s this nonsense about me and Miss Haran? What’s your agenda, sir?”
“Sorry, David, I know you prefer thoughtful action. It’s tough to not know Matthew’s condition. I’m sure we’ll find out.”
“What! Who the hell? What do you mean ‘we’?”
David’s phone rang. He walked away holding it firmly to his ear. He stopped and stood quietly for a long time. Tears suddenly flowed from his eyes. He felt no shame. His handkerchief helped contain the effects of unexpected although all too bitterly inevitable grief. Putting the phone in his pocket, his head hung forward.
Composing himself somewhat and turning around, David saw the mysterious man had gone. He began a slow return to where he and Michael had been. It was time to begin the walk to St. Peter’s to see Rennie, but suddenly, nothing was important.
Matthew was gone.
Rome, Italy
The Vatican
V / 4
Walking across the grounds of the Vatican, Rennie now celebrated her new freedom. Manicured lawns and precisely sculpted bushes and trees offered a sense of permanence and safety as well as elegance and nurture for her senses. The quiet passing of one or two people on a walkway, with polite acknowledgement from Father Joseph and herself as they walked in silence, was the only noise that disturbed the tranquility of the gardens. As they travelled from a building that resembled a castle to another that appeared to be a palace, Rennie couldn’t help wondering whether she was still in the real world, but rather a special place where only peace and goodness can reign.
She barely noticed the cool presence of Father Joseph at her side as they strolled up a granite stairway into a stately administration building. Inside, she paused for a moment, not expecting the oozing of power and wealth and history that covered every surface of the corridor. Rennie gawked at each detail until they arrived at Abbess Serena’s office. She marveled at the large entry doors, the rich swirl in the grain of the dark wood, the multiple levels of carved trim, and even the ornate handles. They spoke of the same power, wealth, and history exhibited throughout the building. Joseph appeared to be bored with his duties and this place.
Rennie wondered, How can he be so devoted to the church and not express some delight entering this grandeur?
Joseph motioned to a chair.
“Please wait here. I’ll see if she’s ready.”
He opened a door to the inner office enough to peer in, then shut it again with a soft touch.
Rennie rehearsed her plan. For the moment, this was about the exhibition. She considered the key points. Was it safe? What was the schedule and who was doing what? Then, the ugly intrigue of the previous days could be sorted out at the end. Rennie found Serena to be so friendly last night, she thought this meeting should go well and lead to a wonderful exhibition and celebration for the rest of her stay. Questions and answers about the horrors that happened earlier could come later once she better understood this American insider at the Vatican.
A door to the inner office opened and Joseph peered inside. His face hinted he smelled a foul odor. Rennie couldn’t see what lingered behind the door until Scarpia exited. He paid no attention to Joseph but nodded at Rennie as he left.
Father Angelotti followed, chatting with the abbess as he departed the office.
“Oh, Miss Haran, I’m delighted to see you.” Father Angelotti cried, seeing Rennie waiting outside. “I have much regret for all you went through. Are you well? You look wonderful!” He glanced around seeking confirmation.
“Will you ever forgive me for bringing you into that awful situation? I had no idea.”
“I’m here now. That’s what’s important.”
“But, of course. We thank God for that. How contrived our authorities make all things!”
The abbess stepped forward.
“Miss Haran and I have much to discuss. Perhaps you can catch up later.”
Rennie was surprised when Angelotti grasped her hands.
“Yes, yes, and I must give you a special tour here. I don’t know how to offer my regrets enough.”
As he let go, she said, “I appreciate what your men did to get me to safety and bring me here. Please thank Michael for me.”
His eyes were blank while a polite smile rested in his face. Too many moments passed for everyone’s comfort.
“Yes, but I have no men as you say. There is great devotion among all in the church to do what is good. Please excuse me now. Work awaits, I’m glad you’re here.”
Rennie wondered if his deceit was obvious to everyone. For now, she had to be all business.
“Father Angelotti, will you attend the program today?”
“I may not, my dear. I must connect with the people from the British Museum who are at the Vatican Library. The finishing touches on the display of the letters must be completed.”
Serena turned to Joseph.
“That’s all for now. Are all the details ready for the first event?”
“I believe so, Abbess. I’ll check.”
“Yes, do. Miss Haran, I have a worktable in my office where we can review the exhibition plans. Please join me.”
Without further courtesies, she disappeared behind the door leaving the men behind.
Rennie followed in her wake, aware of a new and cold side to this woman with apparent power. Old world, palatial opulence filled the room. Wow, flew into Rennie’s mind as she experienced the office. And this is ordinary to them!
Serena handed Rennie her business card.
Rennie slipped it into her pocket and tried to begin on common ground.
“Thanks, I had no idea people at the Vatican carried business cards. This is my second one today! So, what do I call you? Last night you said, ‘Sister Serena’, but it seems people here use ‘Abbess.’”
“Either is fine. I’m not that much on ceremony, but around here titles seem to be important. You can call me ‘Sister.’”
“It’s nice to meet another American, and an American woman. Especially after this ‘adventure’ you might say.”
The abbess didn’t flow with Rennie’s attempt at an informal approach.
“That was indeed an unfortunate beginning to your trip. At least you’re here now.”
“So, what’s the plan, Sister?”
The abbess almost flinched as Rennie used the word Sister in that familiar manner. She turned the attention to her conference table with stacks of files and papers.
Rennie scanned and did a quick study of the schedules and drawings on the worktable, each with formal titles in Italian or possibly Latin. As she did, she noticed that Serena discretely observed her.
Serena pointed at one schedule.
“I’ve laid these out in chronological order. Starting on this schedule up here, there’s an afternoon mass to be held at the Basilica Eudoxiana. It’s a church also called San Peitro in Vicoli. This is the building that holds some precious objects of the church such as the tomb of Pope Julius the Second and chains that bound Saint Peter while he was in prison in Jerusalem. It also has the sculpture Moses by Michelangelo. It seemed like the perfect intersection of items of faith for the recognition and welcome of the letters of the Lord Jesus.”
Rennie felt dizzy and placed one hand over her eyes.
“Sister, do we have time for a quiet moment? I need to sit down. Frankly, this is the first time I’ve felt safe in days.”
“Of course, sit here. Do you need water?”
Holding dark red goblets filled with water, Serena and Rennie settled into tall-back, upholstered chairs. Rennie leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
She took a long drink and set the glass on the marble top of an adjacent table.
“I’ll be fine in a minute. I guess I should have eaten this morning.”
“Rennie, can I order some food for you? There’s no hurry. I can give you the schedules and locations, and you can decide what to attend.”
“It’s okay, I’d like to see everything now. I’m sure the ceremonies will be impressive. I’d love to see the places and learn the history.”
“There are plenty of both. A Protestant friend of mine says she particularly likes the ‘smells and bells’ versions of our services instead of the contemporary styles.”
Serena looked into the distance with a peaceful expression that didn’t fit the moment. Rennie took a deep breath.
“Thank you for the water—that was what I needed. I’ll get something to eat when we’re done. So, what do you wear and do in this first event?”
“The basic garment is a plain white robe although the trim on the sleeves and openings is nicely done. Then, there a couple of vestments laid over it that represent the perspectives of my order and the role of the church as shepherd of the faithful.”
“Do you have a particular cross or carry a crosier?”
“The cross is a traditional piece that’s been in my congregation for a few hundred years.”
“What about the crosier? I think those are cool. They seem to show a lot of authority.”
The abbess didn’t respond. She went to the worktable and moved some papers around.
“People seem to be devoted to challenging authority now. Symbols like a crosier or even the cross become unimportant.”
