Chapter 60 Elena
E LENA
Elena, Christian and Mamma arrive at San Zaccaria fifteen minutes before Mass is due to start. The Feast of the Mother of our Lord is always a big deal, but with their own representative from the Vatican celebrating the Mass tonight, the church is bursting at the seams. Everyone wants to see Padre Alessandro; he’s a rockstar here.
Christian continues to be the best version of himself, not complaining about attending a second Italian service in a week.
Mamma walks ahead of them and Christian helps Elena up the aisle. She leans onto his arm, keeping the weight off her swollen ankle that he’s strapped up for her. Not for love nor money could they find crutches to hire in San Marco today, not even at the hospital.
Mamma is stopped by well-wishers every few steps she takes. Papà was loved in the community. They ran their little grocery store for over thirty years before selling it when Papà became ill. He’s sorely missed, but by nobody more than Elena. Being back in the church, where his funeral was held just last week, makes her chest feel like it’s being crushed.
Mamma waves to Signore and Signora Bianchi, who are seated in the front pew. Signore Bianchi beckons them over. Merda, now Christian will see how well their families know each other despite her earlier denials to him.
Marina, sitting on the end in the aisle seat, gives Christian a brief smile before catching Elena’s eye with a look of solidarity.
Marina is particularly stunning tonight. Her lips are painted blood red and her dark curls, usually wild and loose, are smooth and straight, held up in a lush high ponytail. Her face looks different when she’s not hiding behind those huge red frames; she seems softer somehow. She’s dressed in a satin white shirt that shows off her olive complexion, tucked into tight leather leggings that hug her slim long legs.
When Elena sees who’s sitting next to the Bianchis, her stomach sinks. What are the Dawsons doing here? They’re not even Italian!
Mamma makes her way along the row, hugging the Bianchis one by one. Elena wills her to ignore the Dawsons when she comes upon them. Of course Mamma doesn’t. She clasps Gayle by the arms and warmly kisses both her cheeks, and then does the same with Mike. Elena watches Christian’s face as he clocks it.
Mike pats the seat next to him, which is still free, and Mamma sits down.
‘Mamma.’ Elena reaches for her hand, trying to pull her back up. ‘Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a side pew where there’s more space?’ She gives her a strained look. We can’t sit next to these people.
Mamma waves her off. Elena has no choice but to sit next to her.
‘Your mum knows the Americans. How?’ Christian hisses in her ear.
‘No idea.’ She gives him a vacant stare. ‘He’s asking how you know the Americans,’ she whispers to Mamma.
Mamma’s face falls. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry.’ Turning to Christian, she switches back to English. ‘She doesn’t know them. She was being polite.’
Christian chuckles. ‘Italians! Everyone’s a long-lost friend, even people you’ve never met.’
‘I know, right?’ Elena laughs with him, overwhelmed with relief.
‘And she knows the Bianchis from when your brother played soccer with Rocco?’ he asks.
‘Must be.’
He nods, satisfied.
The organist begins to play as more people take their seats. The crowd may be huge, but so is the church. There’s room for everyone.
Mamma, Signora Bianchi and Marina kneel in prayer. Elena joins them. She clasps her hands tightly, looking up at the painting of the Madonna behind the altar.
Quietly she prays. ‘Madre di Dio, aiutami a correre.’
Mother of God, help me run.
Blessed Virgin, she continues , lead me to safety. Guide me.
Christian taps her shoulder. ‘Rocco’s here.’
Elena pushes herself off her knees and smiles at Rocco and Sophie, who walk towards them. Rocco smiles back but Sophie, looking agitated, barely acknowledges her. They take the seats next to Christian. Marina moves to the spot next to Sophie, making way for a nun who’s just turned up and is now seated next to Signora Bianchi.
A hush descends over the church and the congregation rises. Elena winces when she stands, her ankle throbbing inside her boot. The organist starts a new song, and the choir, a group of twenty or so, mostly women, all dressed in black, begins to sing. The procession enters from the back of the church.
Elena watches Alessandro follow the altar boys up the aisle. The instant he reaches the pulpit and turns to face the congregation, it hits her like a thunderbolt. The light shining from behind him is like a halo of the Holy Spirit surrounding him. He’s an angel. An angel right before her eyes. Of course! How could she not have thought of this before?
When Alessandro speaks, his deep voice washes over her. She’s too mesmerised to listen, intoxicated by his beautiful flawless face, by the light surrounding him. She mouths a heartfelt thank you to the Madonna, who has granted her prayer within seconds of it being said. Here is her guide, her light bearer. Here is the man who’ll lead her to safety. Her beloved old friend, back just in time to save her. She closes her eyes.
Later, as Alessandro gives his homily, Mamma grips her hand hard. It’s as if every word he speaks is about them. He tells the story of Mary, Mother of Christ, who saved her child from certain death at the hands of an evil maniac. He speaks of how mother and child escaped their home and found refuge someplace new, how God led them to safety.
Alessandro sits as the choir sings ‘Alleluia’. Elena finds herself singing along with them. Actually singing! When was the last time she sang? Certainly not since she was married.
Christian turns to her, the delight clear on his face. She smiles back at him and rests a hand on her stomach, giving it a little pat. His smile widens.
Elena lets her voice ring through the church in praise of the Lord, who she now knows with conviction will deliver her safely from the man standing next to her. She’s been granted a miracle in the form of Alessandro. For where in Italy, or in the whole world for that matter, is there a safer place to find refuge than within the walls of the Vatican?
And that’s precisely where she’s headed.