Chapter 61 Loretta
L ORETTA
Loretta can’t think straight, let alone pray. With Flavia on one side and Alberto on the other, this Mass is its own unique form of torture.
Last night, she and Flavia watched the fireworks in silence. The heralding of a new year signalled the end of their reunion. It was decided that Flavia would return to the Vatican in the morning and that they would not see each other again.
Loretta returned to the hotel in the early hours of the morning to find both her children still out and Alberto fast asleep. She stayed up and watched the sun rise over the buildings from her bedroom window.
She was so distraught at having said goodbye to Flavia that today she led her family to believe she was unwell. It was the only way to explain her brokenness. She came to Mass tonight to appeal to the Madonna to heal her fractured heart and to help her be a better wife to Alberto.
And then, only seconds before Mass began, Flavia appeared and asked Marina to make room for her. Now it’s as if time has stood still. The Mass is never-ending. What’s Flavia doing here? Why didn’t she go back to Rome?
Alberto, completely oblivious, offers Flavia a mint when there’s a break in the service for the collection plate to be passed around. Flavia looks at him as if he’s mad and declines.
Loretta doesn’t trust herself to look at Flavia or to speak to her.
When Alberto is distracted by his watch lighting up with updated football scores, Flavia leans her head close to Loretta’s and whispers, ‘I wanted to sing with you before I left. For old time’s sake.’
Just at that moment, the organist starts playing ‘This Day God Gives Me’. Flavia rests the back of her hand ever so gently against the back of Loretta’s hand that hangs by her side. To anyone looking, there’s nothing to see, but Loretta’s skin is on fire.
Flavia begins to sing and, despite the anguish she’s in, Loretta joins her. Together they raise their voices in harmony. For three and a half magical minutes, Loretta’s transported back to when she was a young woman, singing once again with her love by her side. Alberto sings too, in his booming operatic voice, but it’s only Flavia that Loretta can hear.
And then the hymn is over and, without saying goodbye, Flavia slips out of the pew and out of the church. Out of Loretta’s life. It’s all Loretta can do not to double over and wail.
Alberto smiles at her appreciatively. ‘Your singing was magnificent, cara. Brava!’
Through the next part of the Mass, Loretta tries to talk to the Madonna. She desperately needs the comfort of the Blessed Virgin. But for the first time in her life, she can’t feel Santa Maria’s presence in her heart. When she looks at the painting of the Madonna cradling the baby Christ, all she hears in her head are Flavia’s doubts about the truth of the Bible stories.
As much as she wants to forget what Flavia said, to put it down to the ramblings of a disillusioned nun, her arguments are impossible to ignore. The doubt Flavia has cast over the origins of Christianity has shaken Loretta’s foundations. What she considered for her entire life to be an absolute and unwavering faith has been thrown into chaos by a few sentences whispered near a canal in the dark of night. Could what Flavia said be true? Is the miracle of the virgin birth not a miracle at all? Is it a horror story instead?
Santa Maria , forgive me .
She focuses her attention on Padre Alessandro, hoping his words of wisdom will give her the assurance she craves. But instead, when she follows il padre’s intense gaze, she realises with a crushing certainty what’s behind Alessandro’s odd behaviour this last week.
The discovery makes her blood turn cold.