Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 34)
Chapter 13
Cindy Bradford
In November, Patrick called Stefano and Carmella.
“Oh, Patrico, it is so good to hear your voice,” Carmella said excitedly.
“Carmella, I know it’s the busiest time of the year for Stefano, but I was wondering if I could come up tomorrow and talk with you for a short while.”
“Patrico, is something wrong? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just need to talk. Will you please ask Stefano just to be sure it’s all right before I come?”
“You know it is. We are never too busy for you, but I will ask just the same and call you if there is a problem. If you do not hear from me tonight, what time can we expect you?”
“I’ll take the afternoon train. I believe it arrives there at 4:58 p.m.”
“Good, in time for cocktails. I am looking forward to seeing you, Patrico. Are you absolutely sure you are okay?”
Patrick mustered a light laugh to convince Carmella he was all right. “I’m really fine. I’m anxious to see you both.”
Carmella was waiting when his train arrived. She thought he appeared nervous and worried.
“Stefano was in the shower so I told him I would come on. He said he would be on the terrace waiting.”
Knowing he must be tense, Patrick was struggling to cover his apprehension.
Stefano was on the terrace, as promised, when they drove up.
“Patrico, it is so good to see you, but what brings you up here in the middle of the week?” he asked, handing a drink to Carmella and then one to Patrick.
They all sat down, but Patrick suddenly stood, rushing into his sentence, said, “I am going to Boston for Christmas, and I am not coming back to Rome. I am leaving the Church.”
“Leaving, what do you mean?” Stefano said, looking stunned.
“I’m giving up my training for the priesthood. I’m no longer going to be a Catholic.”
“But Patrico, you will always be a Catholic!” Stefano countered.
“Maybe on a sheet of paper somewhere or maybe in some peoples’ minds, but not in my heart,” Patrick countered.
“Why? Why this change of heart,” Carmella asked, tears running down her cheeks.
Patrick paused, he wanted to tell them the truth, everything, but he cut himself off.
“I have studied and I have prayed, both more than you will ever know, but there are just some parts of the Church that I can no longer accept. I thought being a priest would bring me happiness; that I could be a champion for the people who no one else would listen to, but I cannot. The church is too big, too powerful, too singular and so is the priest–he is the Church; he is the power. It is not power I want, it is peace.”
“Patrico, I am a Catholic; I was born a Catholic and I will die as one; it is all I know, but I am not a scholar. I will support whatever you decide. Nothing changes.”
Carmella was weeping now. She stood and walked over to Patrick and put her arms around him.
“Patrico, we love you, and we know you did not make this decision without a struggle. I am selfish. I do not want you to leave Italy.”
“I’ll return here someday to visit, and you must come to the States to see me. Thank you for listening. I know it’s difficult for you to understand and I honor that. Please know that I am not walking away from God. My quarrel is not with him and my faith is strong. I will serve in some capacity, but not as a Catholic.”
“What will you do, Patrico?”
“I’m not sure. In the last year I’ve read many books about other doctrines. I will continue doing that. I have found that my basic tenets are no different from many of those beliefs. In most, the governance of the Church is not in one man. In some churches it is shared by all the faithful. There’s a very small seminary in eastern Maine that I may explore. I hear it’s remote and beautiful there.
“I’ll miss this part of the world, here where you are, and I’ll desperately miss you,” he said with tears welling up in his eyes. “You have been so good to me. I love you both.” Standing, he continued, “It’s late, and I know what a busy time this is for you, Stefano. I’ll take the night train back.”
“You will not, young man,” Carmella said sternly. “We are going to have some dinner and wine, and you will stay in your bungalow as always.”
“I didn’t bring clothes,” Patrick said.
“I will find some clothes around here. I’m sure Enrico has some that will fit you. Tomorrow you can help us pick olives. You cannot leave Italy without that experience,” Stefano said softly, still obviously shaken by the news.
Patrick smiled; he wanted to stay, needed to stay. This place was like a cocoon for him. He wished his parents would be as understanding, but he knew that would not be the case.
“About the scooter, what should I do with it?”
“Patrick, we have three here. Sell it or give it away. It is nothing,” Stefano urged.
“Then if it’s all right with you, I think it would mean a great deal to Ricardo, the old, Italian gentleman who works at the apartment building.”
“Do what you wish; it is yours.”
“I think I’ll offer it to him; maybe I can leave Italy feeling good about something,” his voice tight with emotion.
“Then you two find him some clothes so he can freshen up and get back here to help me with dinner. This is a working trip,” Carmella teased, but Patrick could tell, her heart was heavy.
“Just do me one favor, will you Patrico?”
“Certainly; what is that?”
“Throw a coin over your shoulder into the Trevi Fountain.”
Patrick looked at her with a confused expression.
“Then you will come back to Rome and to us some day,” she smiled warmly.