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DOMINIC CAREFULLY FOLDED the papyrus scroll back onto itself, then, securely wrapped the metal foil around it. He repeated the process with the blood stained pebbles, securing them tightly by twisting the ends of the metal foil, so that the small package resembled a piece of wrapped candy. He laid out the pieces of cloth, one on top of the other. Then, he put the metal foil wrapped papyrus scroll and pebbles into the middle of the cloth and folded the material, drawing the bottom portion up and then folding down the top. He folded the ends together creating an envelope of the cloth. He took the bundled artifacts, wrapped them in the remaining metal foil, and placed that into his backpack, zipping the compartment closed. He flung the backpack over his shoulder and turned to Cardinal Celent. He opened his mouth slightly, as if there were words for this moment, hesitated, then closed his mouth and simply stared into the eyes of the Cardinal.
A moment later, he reached out taking hold of the Cardinal’s hand, placing his own within it.
The men shook hands, each lost for words.
Dominic stepped away from Cardinal Celent and headed up the main aisle of the small chapel.
Inspector Carrola stood at the door. He had remained a silent guard and witness, and Dominic realized in that brief moment in between the steps in his stride, that Inspector Carrola’s involvement had, all along, been a part of the design. Dominic stopped in front of the Inspector, smiled, and held out his hand. The Inspector had been right of course, questioning Dominic’s faith and loyalty. Hard words that stung at the time. But now, words that rang true, he thought, as he took the Inspector’s extended hand and shook it.
“She is okay, Dominic,” Inspector Carrola said, releasing Dominic’s hand. “Tonita is okay, and she will recover completely.”
Dominic sighed, let his smile slip for a moment, and then nodded. He pushed through the doors leading from the small chapel back into the brightly lit, sterile hallways of the hospital.
***
“THE PEACE OF THE LORD, be with you.”
“And also with you,” a near unison response welled up from the seated congregation.
“The mass has ended. Go in peace.”
The congregation rose to its feet as the organ high up in the balcony above began to sound a low brassy note. “Amen,” they chanted back.
Father Dominic Renzi stepped down from the altar, turned back to the cross, and the image of Christ hanging, arms stretched, head looking skyward, intricately carved into the wood. He bowed, made the sign of the cross, and turned back to the waiting congregation, now singing out to the vibrations of the organ. He walked to the back of the church. He waited there as the song ended and the congregation exited past him, shaking hands, kissing babies, and blessing many.
“You seem to have found your calling.”
Dominic looked up. “Yes, I believe I have.”
“Well done. We are very proud of you.” Inspector Carrola slapped Dominic on the side of the arm. “You will never be alone, you know that. We will always be here.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” Dominic smiled. “I am sure that I can count on you. But it will be many years before I will need to pass on the truth.”
“I may not be here then, and certainly Cardinal Celent will not, but there will always be someone. Someone you can trust.” Inspector Carrola paused as a congregant passed by. “It is our destiny.” Inspector Carrola slapped Dominic once again upon the shoulder and exited the church.
Fifteen minutes later, after the last of the congregants had filed by and the doors to the church had been closed, Dominic stepped into the sacristy—the room that connects to the nave of the church, just beyond the altar. There, he removed the chasuble, lifting up the garment from over his head and carefully hanging it in the closet. He reflected momentarily on the large cross embroidered into the fabric, the symbolic representation of the purple robe worn by Christ when he went before Pilate. He untied the stole and hung it next to the chasuble, then the cincture, and let the alb—the long tunic—fall loosely to the floor.
There was a knock at the sacristy door, followed by, “May I come in?” and Tonita stuck her head into the room.
“Sure,” Dominic waved her in.
Tonita stepped in. She cocked her head and looked at Dominic, who, dressed in the long hanging white tunic, with his dark hair and deep, black eyes, and the bit of shadow caused by the dark hairs of his shaven face, looked as though he had just stepped out of painting by Rubens.
Tonita sighed.
“I’m glad you came by. I was hoping you would.”
“I can’t stay long, the others are waiting.” Tonita gestured out the open door.
Dominic stared at her, smiled, raised an eyebrow, and said, “You look beautiful.”
“In this?” Tonita frowned. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
“No. I’m serious.”
“Well then,” Tonita laughed when she spoke, “so do you.”
Dominic looked into her eyes. “I’m going to miss you.” He wanted her, and he was sure that she wanted him. They loved one another. Truly loved one another. Yet, both had chosen paths that would lead them away from each other. A higher calling, he joked internally, as he fought the urge to grab her, kiss her, and have his way with her.
“Sister? We will be departing shortly,” An Italian accented voice echoed in from the hall.
Tonita smiled, then let the smile slip as she fought back tears. “I’m sorry, Dom.”
“No need to be.”
“I didn’t want to deceive you. I didn’t want to hurt you.” Tears began to slip down her face. “And I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.” She rushed forward and flung her arms around Dominic’s neck.
Dominic returned the embrace, holding on to her tightly, pulling her close, feeling the coarse fabric of the Habit she was wearing. After a moment, he gently pushed her back.
Tonita raised a hand and brushed the hair from his forehead. She stepped back from him. She looked at him. The expression on her face changed from sad to smiles and back again.
“I have something for you,” Dominic said, pulling the book of Roswell, that Cardinal Celent had given him, off of a shelf and handing it to her. “Just a way to remind you.”
Tonita took the book and brought it up close to her heart. “I don’t think that I’ll need any mementos to remind me. But thank you.”
“Sister? You are coming now?” The older woman’s voice carried a tone of concern.
Dominic leaned in and kissed Tonita on the cheek. “Goodbye.”
She turned and walked out the door. “Yes, Mother Superior. I am on my way.”
***
MINUTES LATER, THE other sisters in the Order had all settled into their seats on the motor coach. Most were now in silent prayer, reading passages from the Bible. Some eyes were closed, asleep, or genuflecting. Tonita sat alone in the seat. Since her return, the others had given her the space they thought she needed. None of them knew for certain the reason that she had been gone for so long. “Personal time to find herself and to reaffirm her calling with God,” Mother Superior had told the sisters when they asked about Tonita’s absence from the Order. She had deceived them also, and she told herself that she would make that up to them. And that someday, they might understand.
Tonita looked out of the large, tinted window of the bus as the driver carefully maneuvered the coach slowly through the narrow and crowded streets of Rome. The drive back to the convent at Abbazia di Santa Maria in Farfa would take little more than an hour. But in that hour, the Sisters of Santa Maria would virtually be transported back to the middle ages and to a sanctuary of great importance to the papacy of old. Today, the former great abbey of the papacy has given way to time and the elements, and few reside there. The sisters of Tonita’s order preside over the small guesthouse, taking in and caring for the few tourists who venture to the medieval city.
Tonita glanced at the book on Roswell she had tucked into the flap on the backside of the seat in front of her. Cardinal Celent had come to her personally, visiting the abbey on an historical tour from the Vatican. He had arranged, prior to the trip with the Mother Superior, to meet with Sister Maria a Sunta, the divine name that Tonita had taken on when she had joined the order. It was then, that Cardinal Celent had recruited her. She sighed heavily, regretting and celebrating her decision at once. She reached out and lifted the book from the pocket of the seat in front of her. She flipped through one page and then another. Then, taking her thumb, fanned the pages of the book, taking in the dusty, worn smell of the paper and ink. She fanned the pages again, then once more. It wasn’t the smell of the dried up paper that had caught her attention. There was something else. Tonita opened the book so that it was flat on her lap. The pages quickly fell to the right and to the left, parting at the approximate center of the book. All the pages fell to one side or the other.
Except one.
The page that Dominic had torn out. The page that contained the hidden map. That one page now stood alone. It had been placed back in the book.
Tonita lifted the parted book and closely examined the page. It had been carefully pasted directly into the center fold of the book, just where the binders glue would have been, holding the page tight into the bind. She turned her eyes to the lines of text on the previous page tracing the last line into the next. The text flowed perfectly from the previous page, onto the new page and then onto the page after. There were no revealing marks that the page had ever gone missing. No new text. No torn text. And no missing text. The page fit perfectly with the other pages of the book. And except for the fact that it was almost unnoticeably thicker, no one could ever know that it held the map to the truth.