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“Miss Ferretti.” He pauses. “Can I call you Sofia?”
I’m taken aback for a moment by his warm, friendly tone. I’d expected someone colder, harsher even, but he seems kind. Kinder than I would expect, for someone in Rossi’s pocket.
“Of course,” I manage.
“I’m sure you’ve guessed that I’m Father Donahue. I’m glad you’re here, Sofia.” His voice still has an Irish accent, not thick, but still rich around the edges.
“I thought the Italians hated the Irish,” I blurt out, and then immediately flush pink. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It was rude.”
“No, it’s a fair question. Sit,” he instructs, gesturing towards the front pew. I quickly obey, with my face still burning.
“I was a young priest here when the Rossi family flushed the Irish out for good,” Father Donahue says calmly. “I have your father to thank for my place, in fact. He convinced Vittorio Rossi that I had nothing to do with either side, and that I should be left here for exactly that reason. ‘A good priest has no loyalty to sides or families, only God,’ I think were his exact words. “ He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling. “Does that sound like your father to you, Sofia?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t know anything about this side of him. The father that I knew—” I bite my lower lip hard, feeling my throat tighten with emotion. “He was kind. Fun. Funny. He picked me up every time he walked in the front door, brought me books, always listened to me. I can’t square that with—with the person that I’m being told he was. With someone who could hurt and kill people. With a member of themafia.” To my horror, I feel tears starting to well up.
I won’t cry,I tell myself fiercely.Not in front of this man, this priest that I don’t even know.But I can feel the tears coming, and I don’t know how to stop them. I haven’t talked to anyone about my father in so long.
There’s sympathy in Father Donahue’s eyes when he looks at me. “Your father was a good man, Sofia,” he says quietly. “Sometimes good men do the wrong thing, but at their core, they’re still good.”
“How well did you know him?”
“Very well. He was conflicted, Sofia. He saw his place at Rossi’s side as a way to temper the violent urges of a power-hungry man, to keep Rossi in check. Rossi trusted your father a great deal—the only man he trusted more was Luca’s father, Marco. And your father and Marco were as close as brothers.”
“I remember Luca’s father, a little,” I say softly. “He came to our house at least once.”
“Your father tried to keep his two lives as separate as he could—his family and his job. But for a man at the Don’s left hand, it’s difficult. And he married a Russian woman. It made a great many people in Rossi’s circle question him. I’m not sure Rossi ever fully forgave him for putting him in the delicate situation of defending him and his marriage.”
“He loved my mother,” I say defensively, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Of course. I married them, I would know.” Father Donahue smiles. “But love is the downfall of a great many people, Sofia. After all, it was Marco’s love for your father and their friendship that led to his death. And your father’s love for you is why you’re sitting here, now, in front of me. Instead of continuing your studies like you should be.”
I shift uncomfortably. “How do you know so much about me?”
“Your father talked about you often, in the confessional. He told me about your love for reading, for the violin, how talented you were. The dreams he had for you. His greatest fear was that the life he’d chosen, long before you were even a thought, would somehow come back to harm you. He loved you and your mother more than anything in this world, Sofia. He would have done anything to keep you safe. And he did.”
“You know about the promise?”
“Of course.” Father Donahue looks at me, his face unreadable. “I was there when it was made. I witnessed it. Giovanni came to me in the middle of the night, bleeding and on the edge of death. He asked me to call Marco to the church.”
I stare at him. “What do you mean? He didn’t go to the hospital?”
“He knew he was going to die,” Father Donahue says gently. He reaches out then, touching my hand lightly. “This is hard to hear, Sofia. But you should know the truth about what happened. Maybe it will—make this easier, in some way.”
I doubt that.But still, I listen quietly, waiting to hear about the night my father died.
“He wouldn’t hear of me calling an ambulance. He said he knew the wound was going to kill him, and he only wanted to make a last confession, and receive last rites. But he wanted something more—he wanted a promise from his only true friend. And he wanted it made on sacred ground, with a priest there to witness it. He wanted it to be inviolable.”
“Providing for me and my mother,” I say softly. “And this marriage.”
“Yes.” Father Donahue pauses, and I can see him considering what to say next. “But there’s more to the promise of marriage than Luca might have led you to think, Sofia. I don’t know what his father told him about the vow, or his part in keeping it. But Giovanni was clear that it was meant to be a last resort, if there were no other means of keeping you safe. If it turned out to be marriage, or your death.”
“Luca says that’s the choice. That Rossi will kill me, tie up a ‘loose end’, if I don’t marry him.”
“I believe that’s true,” Father Donahue says carefully. “I know Don Rossi well, and he’s a cruel man, without much moral fabric. He prefers easy solutions to complex ones.”
“So why are you loyal to him?” I blurt out. “Why help them?”
“Because Rossi is one man out of hundreds,” Father Donahue replies, his voice calm and even. “Rossi is power-hungry. He demands absolute obedience and absolute loyalty. Everyone is afraid of him. If he replaced me with a priest of his choosing, there would be no moral compass in these walls any longer. But when his men come to me for confession, I don’t give them absolution without counsel. I don’t wipe away their sins in an instant in order to mollify Rossi’s whims. I tell his men to be careful. To consider the orders they follow. To think of their immortal souls before they torture and maim and kill, before they start a war over another man’s power and greed.” He shrugs. “I don’t want to fall prey to pride, but I’d like to think that I have made a difference, during my time here.”
