Pilgrims of Promise(34)
The man sighed and looked upward at the underside of the tall pine. Memories of Sister Anoush and the church of Santa Maria in Domnica filled his mind. The church had a garden shaded by just such a tree. He stared at the green needles and shuddered as he remembered his descent into misery. Thanks be to God for the blessed sister and her kindness.
“I’ve seen only sadness in your eyes since the day you came,” said Stefano from behind.
Startled, Heinrich spun about. “Eh?”
The monk looked at the man kindly. “I said, you seem always sad.”
Heinrich shrugged.
“Is it Karl that weighs so heavy on your heart?”
The baker nodded.
“I’ve no children of my own, so I dare not claim to know your grief. But I surely believe you suffer for it.”
“I see his face and hear his voice everywhere,” Heinrich murmured.
Stefano looked carefully at the man. “And why not? You loved him.”
The two stood quietly for a few moments before the monk added, “And you suffer for the want of Wil’s forgiveness as well.”
“Ja.” Heinrich sat down and tossed a stone. “I’ve told him I am sorry, I’ve admitted all I know, and I’ve asked his forgiveness …”
“Ah, my friend, the lad loves you, I am sure of it. He will forgive you in time. His love assures that.”
Heinrich turned a hopeful eye to the monk. “It would be a good thing.”
Stefano nodded. “Indeed.” The monk’s gaze drifted over the bay, and he soon lost himself in reflection. He and the baker sat quietly by the shore as the waves lapped lightly and gentle breezes blew. In time the monk spoke. “I fear we oft miss the mark when we think only of forgiveness.”
Heinrich turned his face toward the man.
“It is wondrous, to be sure, but it is only part of something far greater. I used to walk about this very shore pleading for God’s mercy. Day and night I groaned and beat upon my breast. Then, when I felt I had finally received His forgiveness, I would spend many days praising Him for it. It was all I knew of Him.
“One warm evening, I was rebuked for these things by a wise monk from Cypress. He taught me that God’s mercy is not His only gift, it is just the beginning of gifts.” Stefano leaned close to Heinrich. “My friend, He offers us so much more than forgiveness; He offers us the whole of His love.”
The baker stared thoughtfully at the monk. He, too, had spent years seeking mercy. He had spent precious few moments considering the immeasurable vastness of God’s love.
“Forgiveness, my brother, is something God does for us, but love is what He is for us.”
Heinrich wondered, but suddenly enlivened by the monk’s good news, his mind began to whirl. A voice from one side interrupted his thoughts.
“‘Tis a good day.”
The two men turned. “Ah, Frieda. Yes, of course,” answered Stefano, slightly annoyed at the intrusion.
The girl stepped alongside the pair. “I wonder about Pieter and the others. Do you think they’ll celebrate the Advent with Maria and Anna?”
Heinrich answered. “Well, we can only hope.”
Frieda stared quietly at the water and wrapped a thin blanket over her shoulders. She had braided her hair and was dressed in her new black gown. Heinrich thought her to be beautiful, and he sensed Wil had noticed as well.
“How is my son?”
“He grows better every day,” Frieda answered with a kindly smile. “His wounds are fast healing and—he is different than before the San Marco.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Heinrich mumbled with a sudden quality of self-pity.
Frieda looked at the man with compassion but answered firmly, “He’s cause to be angry with you.”
The man was surprised. He was also weary and frustrated. “How would you know about that?”
“By your words, sir, by your own words.”
Heinrich fell silent. He had shared a great deal of his past with the girl while in camp in Genoa and here at San Fruttuoso as well. “I thought to protect them all from m’self by my penance.”
“Who?”
“Wil and his brother … m’wife as well.”
Frieda thought for a moment. “True enough. But you also wanted to cleanse your own soul, and you failed to consider the cost to them.”
Heinrich recoiled from her remarks and fell silent. Always inward, always melancholy, the man retreated deep within himself. She’d be right to say it; ‘tis truth in her words, he thought. I did not consider the cost in full. The weight of shame lay heavy on his spirit when he felt the touch of the damsel’s hand on his arm.
“Good sir, I do not blame you, nor do I think Wil blames you. He only needs to know that you know. He needs to know that you understand how terrible the cost was to him and to Karl… and to their mother.”