A pleasant morning had given way to an oppressively hot midday. The pointed cypress trees that lined the narrow asphalt path up to the convent offered only a little shade. With as little effort as possible, Isabella cycled against a hot, gathering wind that felt like a hairdryer.
In the sky, dark clouds were forming and coming quickly closer. Soon the weather would change. For that reason at least, she wanted to reach the convent as quickly as she could.
But a brightly coloured shape on the side of the path, right between two tall cypress trees, made her pull up sharply. A blonde woman in a colourful summer dress was sitting on the bench. Looking closer, Isabella saw that she was not sitting on the bench, but kneeling in front of it, her elbows propped up on the wooden board of the seat and her hands folded in prayer. The woman's eyes were closed, but her lips moved silently and quickly.
Isabella recognised her immediately. It was the receptionist from the hotel. Aurora Rossi.
Once again God's providence had touched her life. How else to explain her meeting with this girl, on this path?
Isabella braked and dismounted – which was rather tricky, as the bike had grown heavy with all the shopping in the basket and saddlebags.
"Buongiorno."
The woman opened her eyes and looked at Isabella disconcertedly. When she recognised her, a tentative smile stretched across her pretty, full lips. Isabella realised that she must have been crying. Her eyes were red.
"May I join you?"
Aurora rose and stroked her dress. "Please. I would be honoured."
So they sat in silence, side by side on the rotten, sun-bleached wooden bench. Isabella took in the view of the pleasantly monotonous Chianti vineyards that undulated over the hills and plain. She took a deep breath. The smell of rain was already heavy in the air.
The silence was not unpleasant. Or, not for Isabella. She knew that some things took time. And it wasn't long before she heard the young woman beside her heave a sigh.
"I have been waiting for you, Sister Isabella." Isabella was silent.
"I just don't know where else to turn."
Isabella looked at her. "You mean now that Sister Raffaella is no longer with us?" she asked quietly.
Aurora nodded silently. A fat tear formed in the corner of her eye, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. "I have a huge problem and I just don't know what to do."
Isabella took the woman's hand from her face and placed it on her lap. Gently stroking it, she encouraged Aurora to tell her what was on her mind.
She could see Aurora struggling with herself. And finally her lips moved: "I'm pregnant."
Isabella was confused for a moment, but then she beamed. "But that's wonderful news. What can be more beautiful than having the miracle of life inside you?"
"No, it's terrible." More tears ran down Aurora's cheeks. "The child's father doesn't want to know about it."
"Oh, I'm sorry about that. But why?"
"Because he's already married."
Isabella stopped smiling. That certainly did complicate matters. She could see how difficult it was for Aurora to talk about it.
Suddenly Isabella was struck by an inner intuition, and a suspicion formed in her mind. "Tell me: is the father the man you had an argument with at reception the other day?"
The young woman looked at Isabella, her eyes wide.
"Is it Nicoló Sorrentino?"
"How do you know?"
"I saw what happened, from the market stall."
Aurora lowered her eyes. "Yes, that was bad. He suggested that I get rid of the child. That it wasn't too late for that." She slowly opened her eyes and looked at Isabella. "Can you imagine?"
Unfortunately, Isabella could imagine very well.
"Besides …" Aurora averted her eyes and looked down at the floor. "Nicoló is a good man," she said, immediately rowing back. "He's good at heart, and really very charming. But sometimes he's a little … impulsive."
Isabella said nothing to this, but thought back to the argument in the hotel that she had witnessed. Yes, impulsive was probably the right word.
"He is a passionate man and sometimes he is not in control of himself."
"It is not for me to form an opinion about this man. I don't know him."
Aurora continued, not heeding Isabella's words. "I know we are both in a relationship that the church forbids, and I am ashamed of it. I pray to God every day to forgive me."
Isabella believed Aurora.
"But I love him. More than I have ever loved anything in the world. And it drives me crazy that he has another woman by his side. The guilt is driving me crazy, but I can't stop loving him, seeing him …"
She paused, as if holding back from releasing a tide of emotion.
"No one could know of our forbidden love." Her voice became darker. More serious. "That goes without saying. The relationship was secret; through it all, we couldn't risk being caught. But our passion for each other made us careless. Sister Raffaella saw us kissing here, on this bench."
So that was it, Isabella thought. The missing link to Aurora.
"She didn't betray us," Aurora said immediately. "Not at all: she just kept walking as if she hadn't seen us. But I know she saw us. We looked into each other's eyes for a full second and I could see her accusations there. I couldn't live with that. So I went to see her the next day to … I don't know why."
"To rid yourself of your guilt?"
"No … yes! I mean … maybe. I am a very religious person and … I just had to confide in someone. So the next day I went to her and confessed my love for this married man – and also that I was pregnant by him."
"I am sure that Sister Raffaella was a very good confidant."
"Yes," Aurora said immediately. "She was." Her gaze lowered again. "But Nicoló discovered that I had gone to the sister. He wanted to know why. I denied everything, of course, and didn't tell him about the pregnancy – for fear of how he would react. I didn't know how I should react."
"You should be happy," Isabella encouraged her. "Carrying life is a gift from God."
"But not when it's from a married man." Isabella was silent. That was indeed a problem.
"In any case, the next day Nicoló did not show up at our meeting place in the vineyards like we had arranged. I tried to ring him, but he didn't answer his phone. When I was on my way back to the village, I saw him coming out of the convent."
Isabella's eyes widened. Nicoló Sorrentino had been in the convent? "When was that?"
"I … I really can't remember,” she said, flustered now. "The next time we met, he knew about my pregnancy. And there was only one person I had confided in."
"Sister Raffaella."
Aurora nodded and turned up her nose. She turned her upper body to Isabella and looked deep into her eyes.
Suddenly, Isabella was struck by an epiphany.
She was a religious woman through and through. But that did not mean that she expected to encounter divine providence. The way she saw things, God was always close to her. If she prayed and lived a God-fearing life, He was that bit closer still. And sometimes, or she told herself at least, He was so close to her that He guided her thoughts. This was one such moment. She finally understood. All this time she had been wrong. The number six was not for the sixth ceramic figure, but for the commandment, as she had already recalled at the church of San Giuseppe: Thou shalt not commit adultery. This was a new motive, and one that changed everything.
And so it came as no surprise to her when Aurora said: “Sister Isabella: I think Nicolò has done something really bad."