Читать книгу Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C. - Edward Galluzzi - Страница 14
ОглавлениеHannah sat in front of the mirror trying to achieve the proper appearance respectful of the office of the Holy See. She has met and interviewed a number of dignitaries during her career as a journalist, but none holds a match to the audience with the Pontiff. Hannah decided to keep their scheduled appointment with Josetta even though Harrison was unable to be with her. She so wanted to see the two men together who on the surface seemed to be such a mismatch of purpose and ideals. Besides, Hannah knew full well that she would spend a great deal of her time thinking about Harrison and the risks that he was taking for his country.
Hannah called the front desk and asked that a cab be ready in thirty minutes. She stood near a full-length mirror and made final adjustments to her appearance. Hannah glanced up and down the length of the mirror and was satisfied with her image. She walked over by the desk and sat down. Hannah opened each desk drawer in turn until she came across some hotel stationery. She knew that Harrison might not be able to contact her anytime soon and decided to write him a letter. Hannah desired minimally that Harrison knew she was thinking of him. She thought for a moment with the pen hovering over the stationery. She began writing as she became satisfied with her thoughts. Hannah wrote:
“Dear Darling,
I know that you are busy and engaged with your mission. I just wanted you to know how much I care about you. Time away from you passes slowly. I decided to meet with your holy friend, Josetta. I’m sure he’ll have some interesting things to tell me about you [that which Hannah was certain]. At the least maybe he will finish your story! I will give him your love. I look forward to seeing you again. My thoughts are with you.
Love, your H.”
Hannah addressed the letter as Harrison had instructed her with a simple post office box number somewhere in Washington, D.C. She was not sure where in Washington the letter terminated, but she was certain that Harrison would receive it when the conditions were ‘right.’ Hannah grabbed her purse and held onto the letter. She took the hotel elevator down to the lobby. The hotel clerk greeted her and said, “Your cab is ready, Miss Littleton.” Hannah replied, “Thank you. Please post this letter for me.” The clerk took the letter from Hannah. She walked out the door where a cab was waiting for her. The cab driver stood by the door and opened it for her as she approached. Hannah slipped inside the rear seat of the cab. The driver closed the door and walked around the back of the cab to the driver’s side. He sat in the driver’s seat, turned around toward Hannah and asked, “Where to, Miss?” “Vatican City,” was his passenger’s reply. The driver turned facing toward the front and put the cab in gear. He drove away from the hotel and headed for Vatican City all the while glancing intermittently in the mirror at his beautiful passenger.
The drive was a pleasant one in the late morning. They arrived at the Vatican in less than thirty minutes. Hannah paid the driver and passed the Swiss Papal Guards as she entered the Holy See. She walked up to a frocked priest sitting at a desk and introduced herself, “Good morning, Father. My name is Hannah Littleton. My fiancé, Harrison Rossetti, and I have an audience with the Pontiff at eleven o’clock this morning. However, Mr. Rossetti was unable to keep the appointment.” The good Father smiled at Hannah and opened a ledger on the desk. He scanned the names and appointment times with his finger looking for Harrison’s familiar name. The priest came upon the names of Harrison and Hannah and said, “Yes, Miss Littleton. Your visit has been confirmed. Pope Josetta is ill although seems in better spirits today. He always looks forward to a visit from Mr. Rossetti. He will be disappointed that Mr. Rossetti was unable to attend this morning. I’m sure, however, that he will be happy to meet with you. Please have a seat and we will call for you when the Pontiff is ready.” The priest motioned to a row of chairs across from the desk. Hannah thanked the holy man and took a seat as indicated.
As Hannah waited, she occupied herself by looking at the various paintings and carvings on the wall. That the Vatican had one of the best art collections was well known and from what little that Hannah observed from her vantage point, such a claim was not an unwarranted one. Behind Hannah was the Lord’s Prayer written beautifully in Italian. She read the words to herself:
‘Nostro Padre, che arte in cielo, ha santificato è il Suo nome il Suo regno viene, Suo sarà fatto, Su terra come è in cielo. Ci dia questo giorno il nostro pane quotidiano E perdona noi le nostre trasgressioni come perdoniamo quelli che va oltre i limiti del lecito contro noi E piombo noi non in tentazione, ma consegna noi da cattivo. Amen.’
Hannah’s thoughts suddenly turned to Harrison. ‘The human mind was so amazing; someone or something can be so far away and yet so nearby in one’s mind’ she thought to herself. She took a moment to pray for her beloved’s safe return to her.
Hannah’s prayer was interrupted by a short, thin cleric. “You must be Miss Littleton,” said the priest. He reached out his hand and introduced himself, “I am Father Alan Pusniche. Harrison did not exaggerate his claims about you.” Hannah was somewhat taken back at the clergyman’s familiarity, but managed to reach for the cleric’s hand and shake it firmly. “You know my fiancé?” she managed to ask with some humility. “Oh, yes” said the priest. “Mr. Rossetti has visited the Holy Father for many years and is quite familiar to those of us in the Holy Office. Is Harrison not with you?” “No,” Hannah replied conveying disappointment. “He received an urgent call early this morning and is flying back to the States as we speak.” “It’s always urgent for your Harrison” commented Father Pusniche. Hannah was unsure as to the tone of the comment, but agreed, “Yes, it seems to be.” The priest motioned Hannah to follow him as he walked ahead of her.
Hannah and the priest walked down a long passageway that led to a door protected by a Swiss Papal guard. Neither the sentry nor the priest spoke, but the guard stepped aside as they approached. Father Pusniche opened the door and Hannah found herself in the outer office of the Pope’s private quarters. The priest motioned Hannah to sit at one of the office chairs and said, “If you will sit here, I will check if the Holy Father is ready to receive you.” With that, the cleric disappeared behind a second door.
The papal office was not what Hannah had expected. It appeared stark in contrast to the ornamental trappings of the Vatican proper. The office reflected the life of a simple, humble man. A wooden crucifix hung on the wall above the door. A picture of Jesus wearing a crown of thorns adorned another wall. The papal desk appeared to be that of highly polished walnut. Three stacks of paper were neatly arranged on the top of the desk along with the usual office supplies. There was an overstuffed chair behind the desk that appeared out-of-place, perhaps used temporarily by the Pontiff since the onset of his illness. Hannah wondered how often Harrison sat in this very office awaiting his holy friend.
Within 15 minutes, Father Pusniche returned to the outer office. He smiled at Hannah and then he asked her to follow him. The priest walked through the archway of the inner door with Hannah immediately behind him. They entered a narrow passageway that was dimly lit. The walls were bare and peeling in several places. Hannah was surprised at the distance traveled down the corridor. They finally reached the end of the passageway and proceeded through another archway. Hannah found herself in a small waiting room that contained three chairs and nothing more. Father Pusniche requested that she sit one more time as he entered the Pontiff’s bedroom. Hannah smiled at the priest and complied with his request.
Hannah sat for a brief minute and was then motioned by Father Pusniche who stood at the doorway. She walked through the door as requested. As Hannah entered the room, the priest smiled, bowed toward the Pontiff and quietly left the room.
Hannah was mesmerized as she first gazed on the Holy Father. He was sitting up in his canopy bed with a broad smile on his face. His complexion was pale and he seemed tired. She walked the few steps to the side of his bed and sat in a chair used apparently by his guests. Josetta spoke first, “Buona mattina [good morning]. Welcome to Vatican City, Miss Littleton.” “Good morning, your excellency. Please call me Hannah” was the woman’s simple request. The Pontiff shook his hand and said, “And you, please call me Josetta.” Hannah shook her head affirmatively as the Pontiff continued, “I’m sorry that Spia is not with you. How is Harrison?” Hannah was somewhat taken aback at the holy man’s use of Spia, but she was beginning to understand why Harrison preferred that she herself did not identify him in that way.
The genuine warmth in Josetta’s voice reflected the intensity of their friendship. “Harrison is fine. He so much wanted to be here today and asked me to be sure to convey his respect and best wishes to you. He received an urgent message from Washington early this morning and flew out immediately.” Hannah’s face could not hide her disappointment and concern for Harrison. Her expression also did not go unnoticed by Josetta. He attempted to comfort and assure Hannah, “Spia is highly trained and can take care of himself, Hannah. You may have to get use to this worrying about Harrison given his occupation.” Hannah appreciated the holy man’s concern for her whom he just met for the very first time. She was also comforted by the passion in his voice. Josetta continued, “It will take a special woman to care for him and adjust to his lifestyle…a woman with, what did Spia say, a woman with moxie? He told me that you are that woman, yes?” Hannah smiled as she remembered her first encounter with Harrison. She replied with confidence, “Yes, I am that woman.” Josetta smiled and nodded in approval at her conviction.
“Tell me about yourself,” the holy man said although he knew much about Hannah already as she was one of Harrison’s favorite topics and certainly a healthy diversion from the rest of his lifestyle. “Well,” Hannah replied, “I was born in Boston, Massachusetts in the United States. My father was editor-inchief of a Boston newspaper before he retired. My mother was a housewife and took care of my two older brothers and me. Although my brothers did not, I guess I got the newsprint bug early. The newspaper fascinated me. My dad read parts of the paper to me each evening. I seldom asked questions about the content of the articles, but always wanted to know how the writers went about drafting their stories.” Josetta was vitalized by the passion in Hannah’s voice. She continued, “I studied journalism at Harvard. I was hired as a journalist by the Washington Sun five years ago and now cover special assignments.” “Like the death of a Pope?” interrupted Josetta with an uneasy smile. “Harrison and I pray for your recovery and hope you have many years. You’ve been quite progressive, you know.” “Progressive?” uttered Josetta with disdain. “There’s that word again,” he muttered with a push of his hand.
Hannah asked, “Harrison told you how we met?” “Yes,” said the Pontiff with a broad smile. “I guess I’m somewhat responsible since he met you after a…shall we say a dejected visit with me?” reflected the holy man. “Then maybe you will finish the story about how you met my Harrison?” begged Hannah. “Did Spia not say anything about our early partnership in crime?” queried Josetta. “Partnership in crime?” the betrothed lady asked in turn. Josetta stared at Hannah, but did not say anything. She clarified, “Yes, in a manner of speaking, he did; however, my dear Harrison did not finish the story and apparently left out more than I suspected. Harrison thought that perhaps you might give me a first hand account.” Hannah paused and then continued, “He told me that he was on a mission in Italy that had gone badly. He was wounded and found his way to your church in Carrara. Harrison stated that you bandaged his wounds as best as you could given the severity of his injuries. He told me that you hid him in the burial vault below your church. Harrison said that two gunmen came looking for him in the church and you confronted them…And that’s where our dear friend Mr. Rossetti left me hanging, your Excellency” said Hannah with slight annoyance. “Ah, yes” commented Josetta with concern. He continued, “I can see why he would stop there.” “You mean my fiancé intentionally ended the story at that very point?” asked Hannah more in irritation than annoyance.
“Perhaps…Perhaps my dear friend was trying to protect me and what I had to do that day 17 years ago.” Josetta’s voice grew hoarse and he coughed to clear his throat. He thought back 17 years ago and the images of that day flooded his mind as if the events occurred yesterday. “Forgive me,” he said humbly. Hannah smiled as if to say, ‘Never you mind.’ The holy man proceeded, “As Spia told you, two gunmen entered my church. They were rather rude men and shall we say not at all patient?” Josetta paused briefly as his statement echoed. He continued, “One of the gunmen was a lean, tall man who had a scar on the right side of his nose. The other thug was more menacing, a big fellow with murderous eyes and several tattoos on his arms. He also had two scars on his face that were larger and more visible than the other gunmen.”
Josetta rested for a moment, cleared his throat once again and continued. “Mi scusi. I knew that if they found the doorway to the burial vault below the church where Harrison was hidden, he would not survive the confrontation. I too would be…how do you Americans say, ‘loose ends’ and expendable. It was obvious that these men were not here for negotiation. They were out for blood.”
Josetta rested momentarily and then proceeded, “When the gunmen first entered the church, they did not have their guns drawn. However, it was clear from the bulges in their dress that they were very well armed. The gunmen did not approach me at first. They busied themselves looking around the church by opening doors and checking between the congregational pews.” The Pontiffs rendition of the events of his first meeting with Harrison was again interrupted by coughing and clearing his throat. “I am sorry” he offered. “Maybe you should rest and I can come back another time” Hannah suggested. “And leave you hanging again like our beloved Harrison?” said Josetta emphatically. “Besides, I don’t know how much time I have.” The comment saddened Hannah, but she did her best to conceal it.
Josetta managed a slight smile and proceeded, “The gunmen were nearing the end of their search. They had scrutinized the obvious. I knew that they would soon be disgruntled by their efforts and search the less obvious. I decided to approach them in hopes of defusing the situation or at the very least steer them away from the church. I greeted the tall, less threatening gunman who simply stared at me. After introducing myself, I asked if I could be of service. Again, the gunman stared at me and uttered nothing. Our one-sided conversation, however, did not go unnoticed by the other assassin.”
Josetta stopped to rid himself of the rasp in his voice. His cough lingered this time. Hannah asked if she could get him anything to which he nodded ‘no’. The holy man continued, “As the second gunman approached, I again introduced myself and smiled uneasily. He took out a large caliber handgun from inside his jacket and struck me hard on the side of my face. I collapsed to one knee, not a position for which I’m unfamiliar by the way, and held the side of my face which ached severely from the blow.” As the holy man spoke, Hannah noticed a scar on the left side of his face. Josetta continued, “The tall gunman did not move or react in any way. He apparently had witnessed such viciousness before from his colleague. The other gunman who struck me walked forward and aimed his gun inches from my head. At that moment, I knew I was dead. Whether or not I betrayed Spia, their brutality certainly suggested that I would be sacrificed. Theirs were not the kind of enterprise known for leaving loose ends.”
Josetta patted his chest as he coughed once again. “Mi scusi. This persistent cough is most irritating…,” he said as he paused and waved his hand. “I was too frightened to be scared,” said the holy man in truth with a hesitant smile. Hannah listened intently and easily understood how others gathered strength from this humble man. Josetta continued, “The man holding a gun in one hand and my life in the other said tersely to me, ‘You are hiding a man, a wounded man. You will turn him over to me if you value your life!’ He then cocked his gun. I enjoyed and valued life, of course, but my soul was at peace with God and prepared always for death.”
Josetta stopped and reached for a glass of water from the bedside table. Hannah rose immediately, picked up the glass and handed it to him. Josetta took several sips from the glass and returned it to Hannah. He contemplated for a moment what he told Hannah thus far and spoke slowly. “I asked the gunman to help me up off my knee. I knew that if I were to gain the upper advantage, it was going to be at that very moment. The other gunman still had his hands down with no weapon in view. As the mercenary with the gun reached out with his free hand to assist me, I jerked his hand quickly. He stumbled to the ground, in shock I imagine, losing his gun in the process. Whether by fate or an act of God, the gun skidded toward me. I was not a stranger to firearms as my father often took me hunting as a ‘bambino’—a little boy.”
Josetta began coughing once more. Hannah rose from her chair and gave the Pontiff his glass of water. The holy man took several swallows of the liquid and returned the glass to Hannah. Hannah sat down as Josetta cleared his throat and continued, “I only had seconds to beg for God’s mercy and forgiveness as I grabbed the gun. The thin, tall assassin who a moment ago was unarmed had reached for his weapon. I said aloud, ‘Mother of God please forgive me.’ I fired once dropping the man to the church floor. He laid still and he appeared no longer a threat. I then turned my attention to the other gunman who was no longer on the floor. He reached under his jacket presumably for another weapon. I fired again, but the weapon did not discharge. Several more pulls of the trigger yielded nothing but my disbelief and fear. The assassin pulled out a large knife and lunged toward me. I attempted to move out of the path of the man and his weapon, but was unable to do so. The cold steel of the knife forced itself into my left upper chest. The gunman dislodged the knife and was prepared to stab me again. As I lay on my back, I knew I would not survive a second assault. I again asked for God’s forgiveness and to accept my soul in His Kingdom. The assassin smiled smugly and I remember his words to this day: ‘You should have surrendered him. Now you will die for your misplaced loyalty.’ As the gunman reached back with his knife to end my life, semiautomatic gunfire rang out. The mercenary fell backward to the ground in a hail of bullets. He lay motionless as the knife that would have ended my life dropped slowly out of his hand. I managed with some effort to turn around toward the direction of the gunfire. Our friend Harrison was moving toward me.”
Hannah’s eyes moistened as she better understood Josetta’s friendship with her Harrison. She comprehended clearly now the bond that existed between the holy man and the sinner. They saved the lives of each other risking their own. Yet, Hannah was aware of Josetta’s guilt of serving as the reluctant instigator of violence and death. It must be intolerable for a man of God ordained to protect life, to uplift life and to celebrate life to take it away even under such extraordinary circumstances. Josetta’s personal demon was an ongoing struggle of conscience in his life.
Hannah stood and moved toward Josetta. She reached out to him. Their hands joined and they held each other firmly. Hannah spoke, “You need your rest, Holy Father. I cannot tell you how much meeting you has meant to me. I understand why Harrison speaks so fondly and genuinely about you. Thank you for reliving a painful part of your past just for me.” Josetta waived his hand as he often did before he spoke and said, “Spia and I have shared much over the years. And now he brings me you. You are much prettier on the eyes than your fiancé—be sure to tell Harrison I said so.” Josetta and Hannah both managed a smile. Hannah spoke, “I will tell him. Meanwhile, you get your rest. I want to meet again when Harrison and I can visit together with you. Your friendship means so much to him.” “And you? You can take care of my Spia knowing what you know and don’t know about him?” said Josetta coyly. They both understood what was said and left unsaid. Hannah replied, “We will all take care of each other.” Josetta afforded a hearty laugh, one of few laughs in the past months, and countered, “You should be a diplomat!” The two growing friends managed a laugh again. Hannah knelt at Josetta’s bedside and spoke, “May the strength of God be with you.” Josetta nodded as he watched Hannah rise and disappear from his sight. He lay back in his bed, coughing once again. Josetta closed his eyes in hopes of securing some needed sleep. He drifted to sleep not knowing if he would awaken again in the physical world, not knowing if he would share in the friendship of Harrison and Hannah.
Hannah attempted to control the tears swelling in her eyes as she walked down the narrow passageway. As she walked out the corridor, Father Pusniche stood on the other side. Hannah thanked him for his kindness. She could hardly control the wetness in her eyes and quickly walked out of the Vatican. Hannah cried quietly but openly as the noon sun shined directly overhead. Except for the tears, it was a beautiful day in Roma.
