Mac spent the next few months between his office on Piazza di Spagna, and his space at the Vatican. Father Leiber provided Mac with a rather Spartan room in the Papal Apartments to call his own, with no view of Saint Peter's Square. His desk was modest, his chair comfortable, but there was nothing else in the room but a guest chair, where Father Leiber would often sit to pick Mac's brain. Mac's time with the Pontiff was very limited, mostly at State functions, where he was just another body. Mac never did put on a cassock, but he did start attending prayers with the clerics each day in the Basilica. In return, some of the younger Jesuit brothers began running with Mac most mornings, necessitating Mac starting at the Vatican before visiting other areas of the city.
Mac did different assignments for Father Leiber, but his work was always more than thorough, and done expeditiously. Mac felt like a monk toiling away each day in the solitude of his chamber, but the work was exciting, timely, and usually of vital importance to the free world. He began to understand Father Leiber's priority, to protect the Pontiff at all costs. Mac came to believe this to be his mission, as well.
So, in March of 1941, when he was summoned to speak with Pope Pius in his private study, Mac was not only surprised, but he was also nervous that he had done something wrong. He had been in his small office for over two months now, with nothing but praise from Father Leiber. But to be summoned by the Pontiff, particularly without Father Leiber being present, made Mac think back to what he could have possibly done to upset His Grace.
“Come in, my son,” said Pope Pius, holding out his hand so that Mac could kiss his ring. “Please, sit with me. I am having a cup of tea. May I have one brought to you?”
“No, thank you, Your Grace. I am fine.”
“Well, I am sure you are wondering why I have called you here. Father Leiber has indicated to me that you feel very strongly that the evidence brought to us by the Jewish Community should be passed on to your president. I have been told of what you have seen, and I have been told of the magnitude of the atrocities. I have thought about it at length, and I have prayed on it, and I have made some decisions. First, I had Father Leiber show me the photographs and the journal brought to us by the Rabbis. How man can do such things is beyond my comprehension as a man of God. I have no words; I just have no words that appropriately convey the outrage that I feel both as a man, and as God's representative here on Earth. So, I have decided to ask you to send these things to your president, with a note from me, well actually, from you, conveying to him my outrage over what I have seen, and telling him that he has my prayers and blessings with him when he decides to move on this matter. Notice, I said “when,” not “if.” I cannot act as a sword, when it is taking all my strength to hold up a shield, but we both know the time will come when America must fight. The things that I have seen give Mr. Roosevelt the moral right to intercede on behalf of our fellow man, and America has my blessing when it does so.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Mac, as he recovered his composure from not only being addressed directly by the Pontiff, but also from what he was telling Mac to do. “I will get right on it, Your Excellency. For what it is worth, I am truly pleased that you have come to this decision. I will show it to you before I send it, in that I am speaking on your behalf?”
“Show it to Father Leiber. He will see to it that I see it before it goes out. Now, Tommaso, there is one more thing I must discuss with you.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Mac, undergoing another round of nervous anxiety.
“Your work has been marvelous, my son. We are most blessed to have you here with us. I will not pressure you to join us as a man of God, but I wanted you to know that you would be most welcome should you decide to do so. Think about it, Tommaso? Think about it and pray on it.”
“Your Grace, your confidence in me is awe inspiring. I will think about it, and I will pray on it. But, Your Grace, there is a girl that I love dearly, with whom I have plans to spend the rest of my life, have children, and grow old together. I would find it most difficult to turn my back on her now to join the priesthood. But I will think on it. Thank you for not pressuring me.”
“I understand, my son, the love of God is a blessing, as is the love of a woman. You think on it. In the meantime, we are moving you to a bigger office, with a view of Saint Peter's Basilica, closer to my chambers. You and Father Leiber will be working hand in hand as my assistants, with or without you donning a cassock,” laughed the Pontiff. “Perhaps, one day you will bring this girl of yours around so that we can judge our competition. I am sure she would appreciate meeting your boss, no? She is Catholic?”
“Yes, Your Grace. She is Catholic, and she would be overwhelmed by the blessing of being in the presence of her Pope.
“Bring her in next week, Tommaso, after you move into your new office. You want to impress her, no?”
“Believe me, Your Grace. She will be impressed irrespective of the size of my office. It will be the most exciting moment of her life to be in your presence.”
“Very well, then, bring her by to meet her Holy Father. And enjoy your new office, you have earned it.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I will get right to work on the letter to my president. Thank you!”
Mac left the study of Pope Pius, where he was directed to his new office, a few steps from where he had met with the Pontiff. Father Leiber was already there, sitting on a couch, ready to welcome Mac to his new office, to lend his support, and to express his appreciation for the fine work he was doing on behalf of the Church.
The new office was freshly painted, in white of course, but now there were paintings of old masters on the walls, and red and gold window treatments, matching that of Father Leiber's office. The carpeting, a royal blue, was plush, and it was freshly cleaned. Mac's new mahogany desk was polished to a shine, his chair, a tufted red leather. The office was large enough to accommodate a leather sofa, on which Father Leiber was sitting, a coffee table, and two leather club chairs, along with Mac's desk, and two other guest chairs.
“This is beautiful,” exclaimed Mac, admiring his new office.
“You deserve it. You have not only been working so hard, but your loyalty and wisdom have been inspiring, and laudable. His Grace wants you to give your life to the Church. Did he tell you?”
“Yes, he told me.”
“And? What did you say to such an honor?”
“I told him that I would think on it and pray. That I have a girl with whom I am in love, and with whom I intend to be with the rest of my life.”
“Oh? And how did that go over?”
“His Grace wants me to bring her by to meet him. What is that about?”
“He is being his diplomatic self,” laughed Father Leiber. “He will get her in his chambers, and he will tell her that he has told you that he wants you to consider a life in Christ, hoping to appeal to her sense of duty.”
“Oh, His Grace does not know Carla DeFelice. She is not easily intimidated, nor can she be dissuaded. Not even by the Pope.”
“Make sure that you warn her in advance, so she is not sandbagged by the idea.”
“Thank you, Father, I will do just that. When should I have Carla come in?”
“Let's do it Friday. Easter is in three weeks. It is going to get busy around here. Bring her for lunch in His Excellency's study. She will get a kick out of that. It is Lent. She eats fish, no?”
“Don’t all Catholics eat fish? Particularly on Friday during Lent?”
“True, but you say she has a mind of her own, this young girl of yours.”
When Mac left the Vatican, he stopped by his office at Sullivan & Cromwell, on his way back to the Inn. These past months he had made it a routine to stop by his office each evening, before returning to the Inn for dinner. Signore Beaumonti greeted Mac as he came into the lobby, which he did on most nights, except this time he seemed eager to tell Mac something.
“Yes, Signore Beaumonti? You look busting to tell me something.”
“Signore Martini, Carla, she is very excited! Go into the dining room. She will tell you herself.”
Mac took his customary table in the dining room, and he waited for Carla to appear from the kitchen. There was still another couple being served, so when Carla finally did appear, she had hot plates up both of her arms, bringing them over to their table. She gave Mac a head bob in acknowledging his presence, as she made her way to the table to serve their dinner. When she was done, she came over to Mac, looking all excited.
“Mac, I have something to tell you,” she whispered as if no one else in the restaurant could hear her. “I, me, I got an invitation in the mail, from, are you ready? From Iris Origo, handwritten no less, on beautiful personal stationary. She would like to have us for lunch next Saturday, March 22nd, at La Foce. She sent the invitation to me, Mac. How about that?”
“That is wonderful, Carla. I hope it is a nice day. That is a nice ride to Tuscany, I understand.”
“Oh, and I almost forgot. She told me to tell you that Virginia Woolf will be there. I guess you told her you were fond of her writing. Can you imagine,” yelled Carla, shaking her hands in excitement. “We will be dining with the Origos and Virginia Woolf, darling,” she said with a snooty affect in her voice. “Can you imagine? Aren’t you excited, Mac?”
“Yes, of course, Carla.”
“You don’t seem excited, Mac?”
“I am. Now, I have something exciting to tell you, Carla.”
“What, Mac? What happened?” she asked, now concerned.
“No, no, it is nothing bad. It's just that you got another invitation today, for lunch on Friday, which may top the one you have already gotten today.”
“With whom, Mac? My God, you are making me nervous!”
“You are close, Carla. But I know you are more than capable of handling yourself.”
“Huh, what are you talking about? Come on, Mac!”
“Pope Pius XII would like the honor of your company this Friday for Lenten lunch in his personal study.”
“Get out of here, Mac! Don’t tease me!”
“No, it is true, Carla. The Pope wants to meet you.”
“What? The head of the Catholic Church wants to meet me? My God! Why?”
“Well, let's just say that he thinks very highly of your guy. He gave me a beautiful new office today, overlooking Saint Peter's Square, right down the hall from his study. He asked me if I would consider the priesthood.”
“Oh my God! What did you say, Mac?” asked Carla, nervously.
“I told him that I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, with whom I intend to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Get out, you didn’t say that!”
“I most certainly did.”
“Oh, Mac, you are so wonderful. And now the Pope wants to check out his competition?”
“I suppose you could put it that way, but I think he was just being nice to me, asking me to bring you by one day. Father Leiber set it up as a lunch in the study of His Grace this Friday.”
“Don’t worry, Mac, I will not embarrass you. But Pope, or no Pope, he is not going to get my man,” laughed Carla nervously. “I will behave myself, Mac, but this Italian girl knows how to handle herself.”
“I know you do. I didn’t want you to be surprised if the subject is brought up.”
“Thank you, Mac,” said Carla, with a sly smile on her face. “Friday, it is!”
That Friday, it was a beautiful Spring-like day, three weeks before Easter. The trees were bursting their buds, green leaves reaching out to the sun. Flowers were everywhere, in the Parks, along the Piazza, the colors awakening the world from its winter doldrums. The Italians were alive, and festive, with the onset of the Lenten season, despite the realities of war.
Carla greeted Mac at her front door, dressed to meet her Pope. She had on a crisp, light blue, linen suit, the skirt worn significantly below her knees, the jacket tailored such that it did not accentuate her womanly attributes. The white cotton blouse under her jacket was buttoned most of the way up her neck, with a simple strand of pearls hanging over it.
The matching blue, pillbox hat, with white netting, she wore, gave her an air of sophistication, as her black hair was pulled back in a handsome, pearl clip. Her earrings were pearl buttons, nothing dangling in the way of her angelic face. She looked years older than her then twenty years, unless one was to look closely.
Mac kissed her hello, and told her how perfect she looked, as he led her to a waiting car. The short ride to Saint Peter's Square was spent in silence, as if Carla were preparing for her final judgment. She smiled at Mac, exuding a sense of confidence that Mac found both charming, and unnerving.
“Remember, Carla, this is the Pope. Keep it dignified, and respectful.”
“Oh Mac, trust me, I know how to act in the presence of our Holy Father. I was raised to honor the Church, even when they have their blessed hands in your pocket, trying to take what is yours. I will not embarrass you, Mac.”
Mac was not comforted, as he opened her door outside the Apostolic Palace in the Courtyard of Sixtus V. They walked up the three flights of marble stairs leading to the Papal Apartments, accompanied by two fully dressed members of the Swiss Guard.
“This is my office, Carla, right at the top of the steps.”
Mac opened the door to his office, leading Carla in, with his hand on her back. Carla went to the window, admiring the view of the Basilica, thinking about the Michelangelo's ceiling in the Sistine Chapel, which she had seen once in her life.
“Oh Mac, it is lovely,” said Carla, as she turned in his direction, Mac not sure if she was referring to his view, or to his office. “What an inspirational place to work.”
“Thank you, Carla. Have a seat while I tell them that we are here.”
As Mac went to the door, there was a soft knock. He opened the fine mahogany portal to find Father Leiber, dressed in his ceremonial cassock, his red silk sash, and his large, gem covered cross around his neck.
“Father Leiber, this is Carla DeFelice,” said Mac, stunned that he was standing there.
Carla rose from the sofa to meet the Pope's personal secretary, her hand outstretched in his direction.
“It is a pleasure, Father,” said Carla. “I have heard so much about you from Tommaso.”
“As I have of you, my child,” said Father Leiber, as he took her hand, holding it like a baby bird. “You look even more beautiful than he professed, my dear. Even Tommaso's vivid description of you has not done you justice. You have a face the Masters would be delighted to put to canvas.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Carla, her face blushing, as she was not expecting such a complimentary welcome.
“Shall we go see our Holy Father,” offered Father Leiber. “He awaits us in his library.”
Mac and Carla followed Father Leiber down the hall to a door that looked no different than the other mahogany doors they had passed.
“Your Grace, this is Carla DeFelice,” announced Father Leiber, as if Mac was not even there, as he ushered in the two young people into the Pontiff's library.
Mac blushed, but Carla never saw it, as she entered the room, her eyes wholly transfixed on her Holy Father dressed in all white vestments, seated at a fully dressed dining table.
“Come to me, my child,” Pope Pius said, as he held out his hand to Carla.
Carla went to the Pontiff, dropped to her knees, and she kissed his ring. She looked up from his hands, with her big brown eyes, and gazed shyly into the eyes of the Pontiff.
“You are too beautiful, my child,” offered the Pope. “God bless you. Please, come sit here next to me. I hope you are hungry.”
“I have suddenly seemed to have lost my appetite, Your Grace, but I am sure it will return momentarily. I have never been one to miss a meal, Your Grace.”
The Pope laughed heartily, as he saw the young, full-bodied woman rise, and sit down next to him, as he had requested. Mac marveled at how Carla had already captivated the room with a bit of humor, even in the presence of two such worldly men.
“We think very highly of your young man, child. He is truly gifted. Not only incredibly intelligent, but he has a knack with people that does not come naturally to most. God has given him a gift, to be a leader of men. We are fortunate to have him here with us.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Carla. “I happen to think he is very special myself,” she said, looking at Mac seated across from her. “We try not to tell him that too often, however, to keep his head from swelling uncontrollably.”
“I can see why Tommaso thinks so highly of you. You are charming and quick witted, child.”
“Thank you, Your Holiness, so are you.”
“Why don’t we eat,” said Father Leiber, clearly flustered by the young woman's familiar repartee with the Pontiff. “You have a tight schedule, Your Grace. I will see to our lunch,” continued Father Leiber, as he went to leave the room.
“Tommaso how is your new office?” asked the Pontiff. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, Your Grace, it was most gracious of you to recognize my work. I am inspired every day by my view of the Basilica.”
“Well, you deserve it. Your writing on that matter we had spoken about was no less than brilliant,” said the Pope, clearly not wanting to raise the subject of the memo in the presence of Carla.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I have sent it out in yesterday's diplomatic pouch. Hopefully, we will see results.”
Just then, the door to the library opened, with Father Leiber and two young servers coming into the room. The colorfully garbed young men, probably Carla's age, had covered silver trays, and serving tray rests, which they set up on the side of the table facing Carla. The young lady got to see the young servers plate pickled herring in onions, which they placed at each setting, while they prepared a Caesar salad, rich in fresh anchovies.
“I hope you like herring, child,” offered the Pontiff, as he pushed the fish around on his plate. “I prefer cream sauce myself to hide the fish, but it no longer likes me.”
“I do like herring, Holy Father. I must say, when the Inn serves it, I do sneak a bite or two when no one is looking,” Carla confessed, wrinkling her nose as she did.
The Pope laughed at the unabashed way about the young lady, clearly enjoying her company. Their back and forth during lunch was entertaining, even if the other men were not particularly involved. As a poached salmon came to the table, it seemed they both had enough of their verbal tennis, so they rested while they enjoyed the fish.
“I am afraid I have not been very lady like, Your Grace, but this food is beyond temptation. I ate everything on my plate. It was all so delicious.”
As the servers brought in cheese and fruit for dessert, the Pontiff announced that he needed to speak frankly about an important matter. As if taking a cue, Father Leiber left the room to the Pontiff, and the two young people.
“Carla, may I call you by your given name? I want to speak to you about Tommaso if I may?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” replied Carla to both questions, now a little nervous herself, as Mac squirmed silently nearby.
“He is a very talented young man, Carla. We need men like him in the Church if it is to thrive. We have asked him to consider a life in God. I’m sure he has told you. He has told us, which we can now understand, that he is in love with you, and that he plans to spend the rest of his life with you.”
“I am flattered, Your Grace.”
“Tommaso could be a Cardinal one day, if he chose this life, and who knows, maybe more. He has a gift, Carla, as I have said. Do you really want to stand in his way, between him and his God?”
“Your Grace, I would never stand in Tommaso's way. If you try to prevent a butterfly from flying away, you will kill its will to live. I will support whatever decisions he makes, but I will never, ever, stop loving him. With a love as strong as ours, if you try to restrain it, the same as with the butterfly, you will kill its will to live. Would God have created the love between a man and a woman, if he wanted us to ignore it?”
“You are an extraordinary young woman, Carla DeFelice. Your words convey wisdom beyond your years. I will not push him but understand what he is giving up to be with you.”
“Your Grace, most respectfully, he gives up nothing to be with me. If we both respect his gift, he can be a light to both myself, and to the Church. He stands by his Church, as he stands by his family, with love and loyalty. He will honor his God, as he honors his wife. My religion is very important to me, as well, Your Grace. I assure you that he will be a credit to the both of us.”
“Tommaso, you are a very fortunate man. Yes, Carla is right. You can serve, and you have been serving, both more than capably. I thank you, Carla, for the enlightenment you have brought to my humble study. You are most welcome at my table whenever you like.”
“Thank you, Your Grace; I am, and I remain, your devoted servant.”
The Pope and the child continued to talk on an equal footing, each giving quarter to the other's opinions and needs. When the door finally opened, as if white smoke had risen in the chimney, Father Leiber was relieved to see the Pontiff and the young lady deep in pleasant conversation, having nothing to do with Tommaso, sharing an apple, which Carla had peeled and sliced for the both of them. Mac sat nearby silently, a broad smile on his face.
“Most extraordinary,” repeated the Pope in relation to nothing at all, as he looked at Carla, as Father Leiber returned to his seat.
Mac knew exactly what the Pontiff meant.