Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C.. Edward Galluzzi

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СКАЧАТЬ Paolo motioned Harrison and his guest to a discreet table in the corner of the restaurant. He gave his special guests two menus and left momentarily.

      There was a short silence between the strangers broken by Hannah. “What do you recommend?” she inquired looking up and down her menu. “The pasta is all good here because of their special sauce. It was a family recipe that Paolo received from his great grandmother—subtle and not too spicy. So, just order your favorite pasta and I promise you won’t be disappointed.” With that, Hannah and Harrison returned to their review of their menus and the mouth-watering entrees before them.

      Paolo returned with the house salad and several loaves of hot Italian bread. ‘What a handsome couple,’ he said to himself and asked, “Are you ready to order, madam?” “Yes, I think I will have the cannelloni” Paolo smiled, “Si” and turned to Harrison. “Your usual sir?” “Si, grazie” replied Harrison. Paolo took their menus and left their table.

      “Your usual?” Hannah smiled with some irony in her voice. “Is that another secret or can you tell me ‘your usual’?” “Meat ravioli,” came Harrison’s ‘what else’ kind of reply. Harrison’s thoughts drifted away from their conversation even with the striking distraction before him. He had a really good idea who was behind the spray of bullets. Harrison’s digression did not go unnoticed by Hannah. “Spia?” she said coyly. Harrison’s hair literally stood on end as he was shocked back to the reality of the present. He looked at Hannah and for one of the very few times in his life he was at a loss for words. The couple silently gazed at each other as Harrison’s shocked expression did not wane. A flash of Josetta’s image past by in memory as the name Spia was uttered so blatantly.

      “I’ll ask you not to refer to me in that manner again,” Harrison said defensively and with ire. His facial expression betrayed the feelings he had not intended to expose to Hannah. Harrison was dismayed at himself for failing to control his emotions upon hearing the term of endearment coming from anybody except from his holy friend, Josetta. Yet, he was uncertain as to why it disturbed him so. He made no immediate sense of his reaction, which in itself told him he was analyzing the events too superficially. Perhaps that was it— thinking and analyzing—odd problem solving tools for trying to illuminate an emotional response. Harrison was only vaguely aware of Hannah’s distress in crossing a line that she had not known was drawn. She wanted to say something, perhaps that she was sorry; however, she dared not to at the moment given the consternation displayed by the complex man sitting across the table from her. Harrison continued his inner review of his…his what? His embarrassment of hearing Spia spoken out of the context of his relationship with Josetta…his anger because indeed that characterized much of what he was…his sadness due to memories of his holy friend flooded his mind…his secrecy for that which was always a part of him…his what? ‘Damn it,’ thought Harrison. Josetta again passed in his memory ensued by a quiet smile. Harrison’s egocentric thoughts were consuming him. He glanced upward and observed what appeared to be concern and hurt on Hannah’s face. “I’m sorry,” Harrison said as he shook his head not knowing further what to say. How could he tell Hannah why Spia upset him so when he was confused himself over the hold that it had on him…or was he simply ignoring the obvious?

      Harrison again looked at Hannah. There appeared to be more concern than hurt in her expression now. She reached out her hand and gently placed it on Harrison’s arm. The gentle touch was reassuring to him and he nodded his thankfulness to her. “We don’t need to talk about that now,” said Hannah in a tender voice. Again, Harrison was at a loss for words and nodded. He thought to himself that there was no sense in trying to explain to this charming, sensitive woman who had moxie what he did not understand himself.

      They quietly finished their salad aware of each other yet not violating each other’s personal and emotional space. Hannah knew that what she had said had struck a nerve, a deep nerve. It was not important to her now why that was. She sensed that she would find out some day what lay below the surface of this intricate man.

      Paolo returned to the table with their main course. Hannah politely complimented the owner on the taste of his house salad. ‘A fine blend of seasonings’ she thought. Harrison reinforced the sentiment and said, “As always, Paolo.” “Grazie,” uttered the proud man before leaving the table. Hannah and Harrison began eating their main course. “This is wonderful,” Hannah said excitedly after consuming several mouthfuls. Harrison agreed and commented, “You know, for all the times that I’ve been here, the rich taste of the sauce never changes.”

      “How long have you known Paolo?” Hannah asked. “Almost as long as I’ve known the Pontiff,” was Harrison’s reply. He continued, “Actually, Josetta introduced me to Paolo and the Casa di Pasta about—well, I guess it would be about twelve years ago. Josetta was a priest from one of Italy’s local regions at St. Maria Goretti parish. I was on special assignment at the time and much younger. Communism was a more severe threat back then than it is now. The covert operation in which I participated took an unsuspecting turn. We were betrayed and my colleague was killed. I was severely wounded. I wasn’t sure where I was going or who to trust when I came upon this small church. “St. Maria Goretti?” Hannah interjected. “Yes,” replied Harrison. “And the man that helped you was Joseph Josetta?” surmised Hannah. “Yes, except that was not his name at the time. His birth name was Josepha Modesta…Father Josepha Modesta. He was, and still is, a fearless man of God. Josetta helped me and he was well aware that he put his own life very much at risk. He sheltered me in his church and sent one of his parishioners to find the local doctor. Meanwhile, Josetta did what he could to clean my wounds and stem the tide of infection. He told me that this was nothing new for him as he often observed his father provide similar acts of benevolence in war-torn Italy during World War II.”

      “I bet the Pontiff has helped you out of trouble many times since then,” smiled Hannah. “Trouble, always” mused Harrison thinking of his holy friend. “Well, obviously you pulled through since you are here,” noted Hannah. “I pulled through only because Josetta risked his life for mine—a stranger to him. The one who betrayed our operation got word that the local doctor was summoned to the church to treat ‘gun wounds.’ He had a very good hunch that I was the wounded man.”

      “This Judas came to the church?” asked Hannah realizing that she played on the identified betrayer of Jesus. “Not only did he come to the church, he came even before the doctor arrived. Josetta was treating me in the small vestibule of the church. What struck me at the time was Josetta’s street smartness. You’d think a man in his line of work would be ‘brain smart’ and ‘street stupid.’ Josetta knew that I was still in danger and the fact that I escaped was a mistake that would not be overlooked. Once he dressed my wounds as best as he could, he took me through a hidden stairway under one of the pews. The crude stairs led downward under the church to burial vaults for the local priests and nuns. This burial place was not public knowledge. Josetta believed I would be safest there. He asked me to remain quiet and that he would return once the doctor had arrived. Josetta feared the worse and indicated he’d do his best to wash away the blood stains on the church floor and on himself.”

      Hannah’s interest intensified as she peered deeper into Harrison’s eyes. He continued his story: “I could hear muzzled sounds coming from above and echoing in the silent vacuum. In the solitude, the cold dampness of the burial grounds began permeating my aching body. The pain of my wounds surfaced as my adrenalin slowed following the care provided by Josetta. He patched me up the best he could, but the tide of blood continued oozing from my wounds.”

      Harrison stopped momentarily and winced as if he again was feeling the pain of long ago as it occurred then. Hannah leaned forward and gently stroked his hand. Harrison sighed at the touch of the beautiful woman. He continued, “I did not realize everything that was unfolding above me or how grave was the situation. What I tell you now was what emerged based on what Josetta told me and what I experienced.” Harrison’s attention was drawn briefly to the tender stimulation СКАЧАТЬ