The Good Left Undone(63)

“Did he confess?” Nicolina asked.

“Right away.”

“He made a mistake. You really want to break it off over one mistake?” Nicolina said diplomatically.

“Do I break it off after the eighth time he does it? Do I break it off when we have a baby and he goes out at night and doesn’t tell me where he’s going? Where is the line exactly?” Anina looked to her mother and then to her grandmother.

“You draw it,” Matelda said. “But it’s a line, not a barbed wire fence. You can’t police your fiancé. You shouldn’t make decisions in haste, and you don’t make a final decision until you’ve seen a priest.”

Nicolina put her arms around Anina. “Mama’s solution to most problems.”

“Because they’ve heard it all in the confessional,” Matelda explained. “If there’s a sin out there, someone has knelt in the dark to confess it. The priest will put this transgression in perspective for you. You’ll see.”



* * *





Don Vincenzo was the parish priest in Lucca. He had come from the north, somewhere in the Lombardia region in the Italian Alps, where year-round the snow glazed the mountain peaks like spun sugar. Occasionally, he made an inside joke about polenta in his homilies that the older parishioners who had family in the north appreciated. Though the priest wasn’t yet fifty, he seemed old to Anina. Whenever her grandmother referred to anyone as robusto, it usually meant they weren’t young but they were in good shape for their age. Don Vincenzo was definitely robusto. He resembled an Alpine bear, tall and broad with a big head.

Paolo had more interest in the priest and his premarital instruction than Anina did. He was, in fact, more religious than she. Paolo kissed the medal around his neck before bed and first thing when he woke in the morning. He was devoted to Our Lady of Fatima. He walked in the holy procession and said the rosary on her feast day.

“Let’s begin with a prayer,” Don Vincenzo said from behind his desk. Anina and Paolo bowed their heads. “You may join hands.”

Paolo reached for Anina’s hand. He placed his hand over hers, which remained on the handle of her chair.

“Tender heart of Jesus, teach us to pray, help us to think, and lead us to love.”

Paolo and Anina murmured, “Amen.”

“I’m confused.” The priest swung his feet onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. “You completed your instruction. We posted the banns of marriage in the church bulletin. I’ve got your wedding date in the calendar. As you may know, I have a line of young lovers around the block waiting to get married and go through instruction. Anina called and said there was a problem. How can I help?”

“It’s been a stressful time,” Anina began.

“As sacraments go, weddings are the worst when it comes to stress. I’ve officiated, I don’t know, about a hundred of them, and they are generally tense situations. Two families—one side wears tuxedos and holds a gas can, the other wears a frilly gown and holds a match.”

“I used to believe weddings were magical,” Anina said quietly.

“They can be, or they serve as a low point in the couple’s relationship and the only way is up. I’m speaking of the stress, va bene? It does dissipate eventually. So, have you pinpointed the source of your anxiety?”

Neither Paolo nor Anina answered the priest.

“What is going on with you two?”

“Anina is angry with me. I did something wrong.”

“Unforgivable,” she corrected Paolo.

“No such thing.” Don Vincenzo swung his legs off the desk and leaned toward the couple. “We’re taught that, you know. You own the sin; you unburden it with the grace of God and seek true forgiveness for yourself from the person you hurt. The short version: Forgive. Forget. Repeat.”

“We have not gotten through step one. She refuses to forgive me.”

“Is this true, Anina?”

“I’m hurt, and I’m furious.”

“I could tell by the way you white-knuckled the arm of the chair when Paolo tried to take your hand.”

“Paolo was unfaithful.”

“One kiss! One kiss in a bar.” Paolo threw his hands in the air. “I don’t even know her name.”

“You’re a weak individual,” Anina countered.

“I’m trying to do better. The only person I can change is myself.”

“I wish you’d hurry,” Anina sniped.

Don Vincenzo raised his voice firmly, interrupting the argument. “Is this an ongoing situation? With the young lady with no name?”

“No, Don Vincenzo, it is not. But that doesn’t matter to Anina. She wants to crucify me for one mistake.”

“Are you truly sorry, Paolo?” the priest asked.

“You know I am. I went to confession. You absolved me of the sin last Saturday. I have begged her forgiveness repeatedly. How many times and in how many ways can I say it? Yes, I’m sorry. And I’m ashamed. The entire family knows about it, hers and mine, and I’m getting it from all sides.”

“Paolo, I absolve you of all sin, evidently for the second time. Anina, I encourage you to forgive Paolo.”

Anina was stunned. “Don’t you want to know the specifics?”