“Your mother, God rest her soul, wouldn’t have liked hearing you talk about yourself like that,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “I know, but she’s not here, is she? She’s not here, and I’m just the leftovers.”
Silence fell between us. I wanted to call back my harsh declaration and make Ricardo smile again, but I couldn’t find the words.
Ricardo cleared his throat. “Well, I better get home. The wife worries.”
I reached out and clapped him gently on the shoulder, and to his credit, he didn’t flinch. He was a good man. Better than I’d ever be.
“Go on home to your wife. Cross your chest to ward off evil and throw that salt over your shoulder. Very few people don’t deserve the pit, but you are one of them.”
He hesitated there a second. Usually, he tried to make me come home with him for a hot meal, but not tonight. Probably never again. I didn’t blame him for it.
“You live your good life, keep being kind and generous with strays like me. One day, you’ll keep the heavens godly, and I’ll keep the hell fires burning. Everyone has their place.”
I watched Ricardo leave, calling cats as he went, picking up little pieces of litter from the street and chatting with everyone he came across.
I lit up another cigarette and stared at the Napoli skyline. There was a concert going on at Arena Flegrea, and the orange cast shining over the building made it look like the entire city was burning.
Sicario.
Assassin.
It really did have a nice ring to it.
What wouldOld Ricardo think of me now, lying here in a cassock? But Old Ricardo had passed years ago, leaving the café to a nephew. Sometimes I thought about how different my life might have been if I’d taken him up on that offer.
I lit another cigarette and stared at the cross.
I guess I’d never know.
5
KATARINA
On Tuesdays, part of my rehab program was working in the institute’s office. Of course, they didn’t let me handle much of anything important, but still, it felt good to look at something more intellectually stimulating than craft paper and popsicle sticks.
As I worked on filing, two cleaning ladies were wiping the floor beyond the reception desk.
“But have you seen the man?” One of them crossed herself feverishly. “No man of God should be so tempting. It is a sin.”
“Yeah, I saw him, too.Molto bello, e vero. But I heard that he’s a little strange... Father Benedict doesn’t like him.”
“Really? Why not?”
“I don’t know, but I think he’s deciding whether or not he’ll allow Father Vargas to come on his monthly visit next week.”
“Why wouldn’t he? Father Vargas is the guiding light of this place. Hallow Hall is lucky to have such a high-profile person taking an interest in it.”
“But you know how there have been threats; he has a bodyguardnow. It’s all political. They don’t talk about Vargas at the local church anymore... There was some scandal.”
They moved out of earshot, and I took a deep, steadying breath.
Father Vargas. I might despise Pavol, and I might hate Father Benedict—but Father Vargas? I didn’t have the words to describe how much I loathed that man.
Mira, I promise. I’m going to get him. I’m going to get him for you. I won’t escape here until I do.
I wiped away an errant tear. Any thought of Mira made them fall. I focused on the paperwork I’d been given. Invoices for bulk amounts of food. Flour and porridge oats featured heavily. The board, or whoever ran Hallow Hall, was a big fan of gluten, that was for sure. There was always the same company name at the top of the invoices.