Thomas glanced at Falco, recalling his furious argument with his sister the night before. In the presence of Padre Dino he was taciturn and acquiescent, though his face was still twisted into a scowl. Beata stood with Toto; Thomas imagined he would enjoy his thoughts on the old man’s beard. Children were quick to see the grotesque and to laugh at it. Making fun of people was what they loved best, before their parents taught them it was rude to point and stare. Paolo and Ludovico were uncharacteristically serious. Padre Dino’s arrival had changed them all. Thomas suddenly felt guilty for his irreverent thoughts. After all, the man was going to conduct their marriage ceremony.
“I remember you from the festa di Santa Benedetta,” said Padre Dino to Thomas, extending his hand.
“It was an extraordinary event,” Thomas replied, trying to respond in the right tone. “I was honored to take part.”
“It was nothing less than a miracle,” said Padre Dino, “and through miracles we are reminded of God’s omnipotence. In times of human conflict it is important to remember that God is more powerful than we are, however efficient our weapons, however strong our armies. God showed Himself in the blood of Christ’s tears and will do so again when we celebrate, as we do every year, this sacred and most holy of miracles.”
“It’s coming around again?” Thomas asked, turning to Valentina. Padre Dino answered for her, as he would continue to do in all matters that concerned the Lord.
“Next Tuesday. Perhaps God will see fit to bless your wedding and your future together,” he said solemnly. Then for a moment his forehead darkened. “You have brought a child into the world.”
“All children are blessings, Padre Dino,” interjected Immacolata, lifting her chin. Because of Immacolata’s lineage, her direct link to Santa Benedetta who first witnessed the miracle 254 years before, Padre Dino held her in the highest esteem.
“All children are indeed blessings. However,” he frowned again and he looked directly at Thomas. “God must bless your union so that your child becomes the product of holy matrimony and not of unholy carelessness. But God forgives, does He not? In times of war it is sometimes impossible to follow God’s path in that respect.” Then he laughed and the air vibrated around him. “God’s path is not always easy to follow. If it were we would all go directly to Heaven and I would not have a job to do.”
“Tommasino is a young man of honor, I knew that from the first moment I saw him. I did not think so of his friend.”
“The one with the squirrel?” said Valentina with a laugh. Padre Dino looked perplexed.
“The one with the squirrel,” said Immacolata. “Let us eat and drink to celebrate their future and thank the Lord that she did not fall in love with him.”
After Padre Dino had said an unnecessarily long grace, Thomas sat down beside his fiancée, opposite the priest. He turned his thoughts to Jack and hoped that he had remembered to send his letter to his parents, informing them of his return to Italy and of his plans to bring his bride and child back to Beechfield Park as soon as they were married. It did not perturb him in the slightest that his parents might disapprove of his choice. The fact that he had survived the war was surely enough to excuse him any unsuitable choice of bride.
Thomas took Valentina’s hand. At first she tried to wiggle it away, torn between respect for the priest and her newfound longing to collude with Thomas. After a while she gave in and let Thomas hold it tightly under the table where no one could see.
Suddenly a low rumble came up from the padre’s belly. Padre Dino continued, unperturbed. But Immacolata’s face softened as she tried to contain her amusement. Again came the whine. It began low, rose in the middle, then fell again before dissolving into bubbles. The priest shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. Immacolata offered him more wine. Normally he would have declined. The day was hot, the sun scorching, the languor of the afternoon already penetrating his mind and melting his concentration. But he held out his glass while Immacolata poured. When the moaning increased not only in frequency but in volume too, the poor priest downed the glass in one. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow and nose and glistened in the light. His voice rose and his beard began to twitch restlessly, the little paws clawing at his cassock as he moved his head from side to side. His conversation departed from God’s mighty strength and purpose to more earthly things like prosciutto and plums. Again and again the whine rose up from his belly until finally Toto’s innocent little voice stated what they had all been longing to say. “Padre Dino?” he asked with a naughty smile.