checked every fifteen minutes by a guard. They hadn’t tossed in sleeplessness
and despair, alive with the knowledge that twelve strangers could look into your eyes and judge your mind, body, and soul
on the basis of the theories and distortions they heard in the courtroom.
Francesca was dead. But he was still alive, and now, finally, he was free.
Somehow, dammit, he had to get his life back.
Matthew picked up the phone and called someone he knew he could absolutely count on—the Reverend Barbara Rae Acker.
She was a wise and compassionate woman who, despite her friendship with Francesca, had been there for him throughout the trial.
He was not a religious man, but that did notmatter. Barbara Rae’s goodness was not limited to believers alone.
Maybe she could help him figure out what the hell to do with the rest of his life.
“I love him,” the teenager whispered.
Annie took the girl’s trembling hands in both of hers. They were talking together in a private room at Barbara Rae Acker’s
Compassion of Angels youth center in the Mission district, where Annie volunteered two evenings a week. The youth center was
just a block away from the cathedral construction site, so it was easy for Annie to stop by after work.
The teenager who had come in for counseling had an old, familiar story to tell. Paolina was seventeen, poor, and beautiful.
Half Hispanic, she had unusual coloring—golden skin and natural blond hair that was so long it nearly brushed her hips. Her
face was a perfect oval with strong, molded features and flawless skin that glowed like the finest polished marble.
The eldest of three sisters and three brothers, she had an intact nuclear family—increasingly rare, it seemed to Annie. Paolina’s
parents were very strict. Her father disciplined all his children with a broad leather strap.
Paolina had always followed the rules, she said, weeping. She had obeyed her parents, studied hard, helped out her mother
with the little ones, cooked and cleaned and, for the past year, worked part-time as a seamstress to bring the family some
extra income.
“I am not a bad girl,” she whispered.
“Of course you’re not,” Annie assured her.
Paolina had never had a boyfriend, she said, until lastwinter, when she met the young man she loved. She’d never met anybody like him. He followed no rules, respected no authority—although
he did believe in and fear God.
“He told me what we were doing was wrong in the eyes of the Lord. So we tried to stop.” Her dark eyes were glistening. “But
I love him so much and when he touched me it felt as if God Himself was smiling on us. Do you know what I mean?”
Annie nodded. It had felt like that with Charlie sometimes.
“But how could He be smiling if this happened?” the girl asked, looking down at her swelling belly. “I feel so much shame!”
Paolina was four months pregnant. Despite altering her clothes in an attempt to hide her weight gain, she was starting to
show. The preceding night her parents had found out, and her father had threatened to beat her with the strap. “Mama begged
him not to, and Father beat her instead,” the girl explained. “Then he told me to leave his house and never show my face again
under his roof.”
“Ah, Paolina, I’m so sorry. Perhaps when he is calmer, he will reconsider.”
“No, he won’t,” Paolina said. “It’s not just that I have shamed him, but who I have shamed him with. He hates Vico. He cannot
forgive him. You see, Vico did something against the law. Then the police were looking for him, and he lost his job and now
he has gone into hiding.”
The entire story suddenly shifted into much sharper focus. “Wait a moment. Your boyfriend’s name is Vico? Is that short for
Ludovico? Ludovico Brindesi?”
“Ludovico Genese,” the girl said. “But he is related to the Brindesi family, yes—Giuseppe Brindesi is his uncle.” She looked
at Annie apprehensively. “You
and despair, alive with the knowledge that twelve strangers could look into your eyes and judge your mind, body, and soul
on the basis of the theories and distortions they heard in the courtroom.
Francesca was dead. But he was still alive, and now, finally, he was free.
Somehow, dammit, he had to get his life back.
Matthew picked up the phone and called someone he knew he could absolutely count on—the Reverend Barbara Rae Acker.
She was a wise and compassionate woman who, despite her friendship with Francesca, had been there for him throughout the trial.
He was not a religious man, but that did notmatter. Barbara Rae’s goodness was not limited to believers alone.
Maybe she could help him figure out what the hell to do with the rest of his life.
“I love him,” the teenager whispered.
Annie took the girl’s trembling hands in both of hers. They were talking together in a private room at Barbara Rae Acker’s
Compassion of Angels youth center in the Mission district, where Annie volunteered two evenings a week. The youth center was
just a block away from the cathedral construction site, so it was easy for Annie to stop by after work.
The teenager who had come in for counseling had an old, familiar story to tell. Paolina was seventeen, poor, and beautiful.
Half Hispanic, she had unusual coloring—golden skin and natural blond hair that was so long it nearly brushed her hips. Her
face was a perfect oval with strong, molded features and flawless skin that glowed like the finest polished marble.
The eldest of three sisters and three brothers, she had an intact nuclear family—increasingly rare, it seemed to Annie. Paolina’s
parents were very strict. Her father disciplined all his children with a broad leather strap.
Paolina had always followed the rules, she said, weeping. She had obeyed her parents, studied hard, helped out her mother
with the little ones, cooked and cleaned and, for the past year, worked part-time as a seamstress to bring the family some
extra income.
“I am not a bad girl,” she whispered.
“Of course you’re not,” Annie assured her.
Paolina had never had a boyfriend, she said, until lastwinter, when she met the young man she loved. She’d never met anybody like him. He followed no rules, respected no authority—although
he did believe in and fear God.
“He told me what we were doing was wrong in the eyes of the Lord. So we tried to stop.” Her dark eyes were glistening. “But
I love him so much and when he touched me it felt as if God Himself was smiling on us. Do you know what I mean?”
Annie nodded. It had felt like that with Charlie sometimes.
“But how could He be smiling if this happened?” the girl asked, looking down at her swelling belly. “I feel so much shame!”
Paolina was four months pregnant. Despite altering her clothes in an attempt to hide her weight gain, she was starting to
show. The preceding night her parents had found out, and her father had threatened to beat her with the strap. “Mama begged
him not to, and Father beat her instead,” the girl explained. “Then he told me to leave his house and never show my face again
under his roof.”
“Ah, Paolina, I’m so sorry. Perhaps when he is calmer, he will reconsider.”
“No, he won’t,” Paolina said. “It’s not just that I have shamed him, but who I have shamed him with. He hates Vico. He cannot
forgive him. You see, Vico did something against the law. Then the police were looking for him, and he lost his job and now
he has gone into hiding.”
The entire story suddenly shifted into much sharper focus. “Wait a moment. Your boyfriend’s name is Vico? Is that short for
Ludovico? Ludovico Brindesi?”
“Ludovico Genese,” the girl said. “But he is related to the Brindesi family, yes—Giuseppe Brindesi is his uncle.” She looked
at Annie apprehensively. “You
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