A Harvest of Secrets(44)

The nave was empty except for Father Costantino, who was dusting pews outside the confessional. Wide-shouldered and strong, with a rectangular face that seemed cut from stone, he smiled when he saw them, and then, when Paolo asked for his sins to be heard, the priest obliged without complaint and ducked into the middle part of the wooden confessional. Paolo and Enrico took their places to either side, the old kneelers squeaking beneath their weight. Paolo could hear the boy working hard to pronounce the sentence he’d just been taught, twice. “Please give me the blessing. Then go up to the altar rail, Father. I haven’t done anything bad.”

“Yes, my son, I know. You go up to the altar rail, not me. You say one Ave Maria, and then you sit in the front pew and wait for Old Paolo, and think about something that makes you happy.”

“Yes, Father.”

The Latin absolution followed, and then Enrico said, “I can go now?”

“Yes, Enrico. Go with God.”

“And you go with Mary, Father.”

Father Costantino covered the screen on the other side, and half turned, and Paolo felt the words flow from him like a river in springtime. Quietly, one syllable tumbling upon the next. “First I broke one commandment, Father, and now another. Now I am a murderer. And last night the Germans came to us and killed the boy’s favorite horse. I am paying for my sins.”

“They didn’t find the deserters, I’m guessing.”

“No, Father.”

A long silence followed. Paolo could hear Father Costantino clearing his throat, swallowing, breathing, but he could see only a shadowy profile through the metal screen between them. “Two of the most important commandments,” Paolo added.

Father Costantino coughed. “Paolo,” he said, then paused again. “My understanding is that those sins of long ago have been confessed and forgiven in this very church. Am I correct?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then to speak of them now, again and again, is the same as cutting your arm, having the wound heal, and then cutting it again on purpose. God doesn’t want that. God isn’t interested in guilt. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then stop mentioning them.”

“Yes, Father.”

Paolo could hear Enrico at the altar rail, praying as loudly as if the sound of his words had to reach up past the stars and into heaven. “PRAY FOR US SINNERS, AMEN. AT THE HOUR OF OUR DEATH, AMEN!”

“And the most recent, Father?”

“Say three Hail Marys and imagine the world at peace.”

“Not enough, Father, for what I—”

“Paolo,” the priest said sternly, “we are as imperfect as this world. In a time of war, the imperfections are magnified. I tell this to myself every day. My own imperfections are magnified, too. They seem larger, but only because of the situation, do you understand?”

“I think so, Father. But he was . . . a man. Not a soldier.”

“You have no idea what he was, Paolo. Or what he knew.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then listen to me.” Paolo could see the priest leaning in closer, so he leaned in, too, resting his forehead against the screen, so close he could detect the scent of wine on the priest’s breath. Tobacco, wine. He found himself wondering what Father Costantino had eaten for lunch. “There’s another assignment now. It is also part of your penance. A compensation. For the taking of guilty life, you will save many others who are innocent. Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Father, if I turn to you my good ear.”

“Do you know the train line that runs through Chiusi?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know, just north of the city, the place where the line runs near the River Chiana?”

“Yes, as a boy sometimes, I would fish there. And later I would take Carlo and the others fishing there. I know it well.”

“Do you know the place where there’s a hillside close to the west side of the tracks, very steep? And a dirt road?”

“Yes. That’s the fishing place. We—”

“That train line runs from Rome, through Orvieto, to Firenze, Bolzano, and north across the border into Austria. The trains that use that route now, in the night, are taking Jews to the camps there. Did you know that?”

“No, Father.”

“Did you know the Jews are being taken?”

“I’ve heard people say that, Father. I thought it was a rumor.”

“Not a rumor. Do you know any Jews around here?”

For a second, Paolo had Eleonora’s name on his tongue. But he remembered his promise to her, pressed his teeth together, shook his head. “No, Father.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then listen to me. The person you met behind the rock will have another parcel, like the one I gave you. Tomorrow night, he’ll come to the barn, late, and you and he will take it to that part of the train tracks, just before the steep hill. Make sure it’s exactly at that place and nowhere else. You will set it there in such a way that it will destroy the tracks. Detonated by a timer this time. You’ll be able to get away. Understand?”

“But, Father, how will I get there in the night? It’s far, I—”

“He’ll take you.”