The Shoemaker's Wife(33)

“This is about Don Gregorio, isn’t it?” Ciro interrupted her, but his mouth was so dry, he could barely swallow. He picked up the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water.

“He has asked to have you removed from the convent immediately,” Sister said.

Ciro looked at Eduardo, whose face had turned as white as the flour in the enamel bin. Ciro placed his hands on the table and nodded his head in disbelief. The Lazzari boys had lived in two homes in their young lives. The first had been taken from them because their father had died, and their mother could not build a life for them alone. Now, it was Ciro’s own actions against the village priest that had caused them to lose their home. The boys had grown accustomed to their role in service to these good and poor nuns. They felt long work hours in exchange for their room and board was a fair trade. They had became part of this community, and grown to feel affection for it. The nuns were purposeful in their motherly care of the boys, making certain they celebrated holidays and feast days as they might have with their parents. Now, the security that had given them confidence and a place in the world had been taken away.

“I hope you told Don Gregorio to drop dead,” Ciro said.

The novitiates gasped.

“He’s a priest,” Sister Ercolina said.

“He’s also a fraud who takes advantage of young girls. You press his vestments, but he is not worthy of them. You—” Ciro turned and searched the eyes of his family of nuns. “You are worthy. Every single one of you. You serve. Don Gregorio takes.”

Eduardo gripped Ciro’s arm.

“My brother and I”—Ciro’s voice broke—“thank you for taking us in. We’ll never forget you. You should not suffer because I was honest with Don Gregorio. My brother and I will pack up and find another place to stay.”

Sister Ercolina’s eyes filled with tears. “You won’t be together, Ciro.”

“Don Gregorio has seen to it that you will be separated,” Sister Teresa cried.

“Ciro, he has arranged to send you to the boys’ workhouse in Parma,” Sister Domenica began. “I argued that you had done nothing wrong, and that you don’t belong there with boys who steal and do worse, but he was vehement.”

“So the infidel punishes us instead of doing penance for his own sin. And this, dear sisters, is the man who represents God on earth? I have no words.”

“He deserves our respect,” Sister Domenica said, but the steady look in her eyes told Ciro the words were bitter in her mouth.

“Sister, you can give him yours, but he will never have mine.”

Sister Ercolina looked around, then fixed her gaze on Ciro. “I am not here to debate the power of the village priest, I am here to help you. We have all gathered to help you.”

“That’s why we meet in secret in the kitchen.” Ciro looked around at their faces, the same sweet faces with whom he and Eduardo had shared dinner since the first night they came to the convent. He could not imagine his life without them, nor could he accept the loss of his brother. Fury rose within him. “He would never think to look for us here. The saint of pots and pans is not one he calls upon. No, the saints of gold, frankincense, and lire are more his style.”

“Stop it,” Eduardo said sadly. “Listen to Sister.”

Sister Teresa stepped forward. “Ciro, we have a plan to help you.”

“What about Eduardo?”

“Eduardo is reporting to the seminary of Sant’Agostino in Rome.”

Ciro turned to his brother in disbelief. “You’re going into the seminary?”

Eduardo nodded. “I am.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Eduardo’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been thinking about it. And now I will leave the convent when you do.”

“So you’ve been sacrificed on the altar of the priesthood in exchange for me?”

Sister Teresa stepped in. “Don Gregorio insists you both leave the mountain.”

“Of course—I saw too much.”

“But we have a plan of our own. Sister Anna Isabelle has an uncle who is a very good shoemaker.”

“Oh, come on,” Ciro blurted.

“Ciro—,” Eduardo warned.

“It was either apprentice with him or go to the workhouse in Parma. That’s not a place for a fine young man with a good mind and a good heart.” Sister Teresa began to cry.

“We have to protect you,” Sister Ercolina said. “We promised your mother.”

The weight of what had transpired on this day finally settled on Ciro. This wasn’t really their home, and the nuns weren’t truly family. The security they had provided was only on loan.

“Is this shoemaker in Rome, so I can be near Eduardo?” Ciro asked, accepting his fate. Ciro would work anywhere, for anyone, as long as he could be close to Eduardo.

“No, Ciro,” Sister Teresa said.

“Milan, then?”

“America,” Sister Teresa said, as her voice broke.

The cot creaked as Ciro rolled over in the dark. “You awake?”

“I can’t sleep,” Eduardo said.

“Probably a good idea. Keep your eyes open. Don Gregorio will come in here and stab us in our cots,” Ciro said. “No, he wouldn’t. He’s too much of a coward.”